Frank led the way back on to the lawn of the Parsons place, skirted the trees and shrubs downstream, finally starting through at the point where they had left their motor-boat.
Arriving there, all climbed aboard, not a word having been spoken the while, not a word spoken now. The three boys, Paul, Buster and Ralph, were consumed with curiosity, as the saying goes, wondering what the next move was to be. They had not long to wait.
“We’ll go hunting for that rowboat now, Lanky,” said Frank, as the Rocket was shoved off from shore. “It is somewhere along the river. We’ll just spend the rest of the day finding it.”
“I suppose the first place to start the hunt will be at the point where we almost struck it?” asked Lanky.
“Absolutely! Let’s try to locate that spot, and then follow, for you will remember it was going across stream, headed for the opposite side of the river just above the island we circled trying to find it.”
Paul and Ralph was sitting at the bow of the Rocket whispering to each other, their remarks concerning their hopes that they would locate the little craft.
Frank eased the Rocket well out to the middle of the Harrapin, the sun bearing down heavily on them now, for it was getting toward noon.
“How about something to eat? Let’s have the eats!” Buster Billings demanded when they were well started down the stream, the Rocket riding the water smoothly.
“I’m agreeable; but what do you say to waiting until we get to that island and we’ll eat in the shade?” suggested Lanky.
It appeared to Lanky and Frank, as the Rocket glided along down the river, that the distance from the Parsons place to the island where they had encountered the rowboat that night was shorter now than before. One remarked it to the other, as if reading each other’s minds.