“But, Frank,” asked Paul Bird, “what boat was that at the island—the one that’s ahead of us?”
“The one from which I got the gasoline,” Frank answered, though his tone was a noncommittal one.
“Don’t you know what the boat’s name is?” Paul continued.
“It bore a mighty strong resemblance to the Speedaway,” came the low-spoken words from Frank.
“The Speedaway!” All three of the boys muttered the word at the same time.
“I said it very much resembled the Speedaway. I could not make out the name, and I didn’t stop to look closely at it. I was in a hurry to get the gasoline and I was in a hurry to get away before they returned.”
“But,” urged Paul, “that is Fred Cunningham’s boat, and you did not say you saw him!”
“I didn’t,” Frank held back from making any accusation or from saying anything which might be interpreted as an accusation. “There were only two men there when I got close, though I know there were three men when I first saw them, and I also know they were waiting for some one to join them. He must have come along just as I succeeded in getting away.”
“Wonder how well filled their gas tank is,” muttered Lanky. “If they had a full tank they could get quite a distance. The extra gas would have given them the additional chance.”
All stood in silence while Frank held the wheel of the Rocket and sent the sturdy little craft up the Harrapin at a speed that might have been a little less than the speed they had when going downstream, but they did not notice any difference.