“Come on, fellows,” added Jack. “No time for fancies. The boat is tooting for us.”
They hurried along the pier to the stairway. Mr. Temple did not descend to the float, but remained leaning on the railing. He was inclined to be anxious about the welfare of the boys, but Inspector Burton reassured him.
“I’ll see they come to no harm,” he said. “And young huskies can’t be coddled forever, you know.”
“Yes, I realize that,” said Mr. Temple. “They are growing up. I know such experiences are good for them, and teach them self-reliance and sharpen their wits in a crisis. That is why I am letting them go. That is why I let them make that wild dash into Mexico, too. Just the same, Inspector, one of the three is my son, and the others are as close as sons to me. And—well, you have to be a father to appreciate it.”
“I’m only an old bachelor,” said Inspector Burton. “But I think I can understand. Well, good-bye, and rest assured I shall look out for their welfare.”
With that, he descended to the boat, which at once forged away from the float. The boys stood at the rail, waving farewell to Mr. Temple until his figure dwindled and was lost to sight in the growing darkness landward.
“Good old Dad,” remarked Bob, feelingly, as they at last turned away from the rail and made their
way forward. “He’ll be worried about us all the time. But he put his feelings aside, just the same, and let us go.”
“He’s a peach,” said Jack.
“You bet he is,” Frank echoed, emphatically.