Back at the Rocket he found Paul Bird and Ralph West, each on the qui vive, for they had heard the whistle of one of the boys, not being sure which it was, but knowing that a can of gasoline had been found or a cache of some kind was there for their taking.
These two boys, loyal to the last ditch, had conversed in low tones over the plight in which they found themselves, each anxious to know what the two leaders were doing, but knowing that if help of any kind were to be found on that part of the island, one of these two boys would find it.
“Got a can of gas!” he muttered, an optimistic tone in his voice as Frank told the news to the waiting boys.
“Did you whistle?” asked Paul.
“No. That must have been Lanky. He’ll be along in a minute with another,” replied Frank.
At that moment out of the gloom came the long, lean body of the lad, lugging at his side a can of gas, the same size as Frank’s!
When Frank saw Lanky and Lanky saw Frank they each fell to chuckling. But Frank had the better of it.
They hurried in their efforts and poured both cans into the gas tank aboard the Rocket—Lanky’s much-rehearsed duty of pushing off from land or wharf then became necessary, and the Rocket moved out from the landing at the island.
But all four of the lads heard the sudden explosions of a motor from the distance, along the wharf, and they knew that a boat at the farther end of the landing-wharf was moving quickly out into the stream of the Harrapin.
Frank alone knew that a race was on between the two craft. One of them had to win!