“Goodness! if this boat stopped suddenly we’d be drowned by that wave,” gasped Ruth.
Neale headed up the river in a grand curve. They could see the shores on either hand. The boys ashore cheered their departure, though they did not know their errand.
They shot by the wooded bend like an express train. The girls kept watch on either hand for the boat. They hoped to see her rocking in some cove along one shore or the other.
But it was Neale himself who first sighted the drifting craft. The motorboat took the south channel in passing Wild Goose Island. Neale suddenly brought the speed of the craft down to one-half.
“There’s a boat ahead,” he said to the girls. “It appears to be empty. Stand up and see if it’s the one.”
Ruth rose and clung to Agnes’ shoulder to steady herself. She saw the empty cedar boat, bobbing on the little waves beyond the far point of Wild Goose Island.
“It’s her!” she said, breathlessly. “But where are the children?”
“We’ll find out,” said Neale, quickly. “Sit down again.”
“And Tom Jonah?” urged Ruth.
“Make up your mind that wherever the children are, he is, too,” said Neale, and he let the Nimble Shanks out again, and Ruth tumbled promptly into her seat.