“That’s right. It wouldn’t look very well reporting back all wet,” agreed Harry.
“They’ve got a motor boat,” remarked Sam, as they saw Clarence and the cadets preparing to enter a fine gasoline craft.
“Yes, that belongs to Captain Hawkesbury.” Tom said. He could not keep back a certain bitter feeling in his heart that he should be so poor as not to be able to afford a craft of this kind, while the other lad had one. “And, maybe, if the truth were known,” reflected Tom, “it was bought with the money my father might have made on that railroad land deal.”
Laughing and talking loudly, the older cadets and Clarence entered the motor craft. The engine started with a roar, then slowed down, and again burst into a series of explosions.
“What’s up?” asked Harry, as they were getting ready to take out their own rowboat.
“Oh, they’re just monkeying with it,” said Tom. “It looks as though Clarence were trying to show how much he knows, or doesn’t know, about a motor boat.”
“Well, he’d better watch his step,” observed Harry. “The river isn’t any too smooth to-day.”
What with the current and wind the Hudson was not as smooth as a millpond. But Clarence and his chums, the cadets, seemed to have no anxiety. They did not start off immediately from the dock, but ran the boat up and down, Clarence evidently letting his friends try their hands at steering and experimenting with the engine.
“There they go. Now let’s start,” suggested Tom. “They can’t run us down now, and claim it was an accident.”
Slowly the rowboat made its way after the motor launch. Tom and his chums were discussing the experiences of the day, wondering what the morrow would bring forth, and dwelling on the good time they had enjoyed, when suddenly there was a muffled report just ahead of them.