“Row hard, boys!” he cried.
“That’s the idea!” said Sam, in jerky tones, as he bent his back to the oars. Each cadet had two of the light cedar blades. They had been rowing slowly, but they now worked up the pace as though training for a championship.
The result was that the craft fairly shot through the water, rough as it was. Tom and his chums, in their barge, were nearer than any other boats to the burning one.
“Do they see us coming?” asked Sam, whose back, as were those of Harry and Chad, was toward the motor boat.
“They seem to be too excited to notice what’s going on,” replied Tom, as he shifted the course a trifle. “But we’ll get there in time—I hope.”
He added the last words in a low tone, for, even as he spoke, there sounded another dull and more muffled, explosion from the motor boat, and a larger pall of smoke rolled up.
“They’re going to jump,” cried Sam, who, in the bow, gave a hasty look over his shoulder.
“Wait!” yelled Tom, seeing the evident intention of Clarence. He was poised on the gunwhale of the burning boat ready to dive, but the cadets seemed to be trying to put out the fire.
“We’ll be with you in a minute!” Tom added.
This time his voice carried, and that he was heard was evident, as some of the cadets waved their hands to him. One of them was seen to grasp Clarence.