"Yes, sir," assented Halstead, rising. "Any further orders, sir?"
"That is all, for the present, Captain."
Tom Halstead left the owner's suite and walked forward, filled with a wonderful sense of elation. He passed the pilot house just in time to see Joe Dawson coming up forward.
"Say, are we going to wake up, chum?" breathed young Dawson in his friend's ear.
"I don't believe we'll have to," laughed the young skipper, happily. "We're all right, I'm pretty sure, if we don't do something that greatly displeases the boat's owner. Thanks to Mr. Delavan, the owner of this craft is willing to believe, at the start, that we're all that's good and wonderful. But come into my cabin, old fellow, if you have the time. We'll dine together to-night."
Both motor boat boys sighed their supreme contentment as they dropped into arm-chairs facing each other. It was now so dark that Tom switched on the electric lights.
"How are the engines, Joe?" asked Tom, dropping into his old, friendly manner.
"Ready to start at a second's notice. And Jed's on duty there, waiting for the word."
"Gasoline?"
"Tanks bulging with it. Tom, this is a beautifully appointed boat below, and every store of every description is in place."