"Keep cool," advised Jerry. "They'll probably try to bump us. We'll row along easy-like, with a big burst of speed at the last second. Before they can turn and come at us again, we can make shore. Steady now!"
The drone of the motor was almost upon them. The dusk lay heavy over the water; they could see nothing. Louder and louder sounded the explosions, but now they had slowed up. A dim shape showed through the gloom.
"All set!" came the low command from Jerry, just as the boat, muffler cut out, the engine at top speed, and volleying revolutions and deafening explosions, seemed to leap through the water.
"Down hard!" cried Jerry, lunging with his oars. Tod grunted as he put all his strength into the pull. The Scout boat seemed to lift itself bodily out of the water as it plunged forward—only inches to spare as a slim hull slipped by the stern.
"Yah!" yelled Phil, jumping to his feet and shaking his fist wildly.
"You're beat!"
The Scout boat hit shore just then, and Phil, caught off his guard, took a header and landed astride one of the gasoline cans. "I wonder if that was a torpedo," he grunted as he picked himself up.
"No," chuckled Tod. "Just a reminder not to crow while your head is still on the block."
The boys wasted no time in getting the gasoline out of the boat and up through the bushes, sending a lusty shout ahead of them to tell the waiting islanders that they were coming.
"Over on the far side of the clearing," directed Tod, who was carrying one side of a can with Jerry. "We hauled the Skyrocket over there as the ground is more level and free from stumps."
They found the whole crew waiting about the airship, their eager faces lighted up by the flaring flames of one of the gasoline torches. "Hooray for Jerry, the Gasoline Scout!" they shouted as the boys dropped their loads at the first convenient spot.