“Looks to me like the riskiest thing we’ve been in yet,” returned Billy.
“We’ll have to do some classy swimming to get over without making a splash,” grunted Tom.
For half a mile or more they kept on down the canal, until they got beyond the zone of light and felt it safe to rise and emerge from the woods, cross the towpath, and reach the very edge of the bank.
In some places the bank went down straight into the water, and they could not drop in without making a noise. In others, however, it shelved somewhat, and these Wilson explored with the greatest care.
Suddenly he stopped and beckoned the boys to come nearer. They gathered about him.
“Look at this,” he whispered, and they saw that he had his hand on the stern of a small boat that had been drawn in the shelter of a little arch at the side of the canal.
“Just what the doctor ordered,” commented Frank, as he saw that the boat was big enough to carry four on a pinch and could faintly see the outline of a pair of oars lying across the thwarts.
“It beats swimming,” murmured Tom.
“Get into it,” ordered Wilson. “No, don’t do that,” he said hastily, as Billy was about to take up one of the oars. “I’m afraid they’ll hear us if we use the oars. We’ll just push it across with our hands. It’s slower but it’s safer.”
They slipped into the boat as silently as ghosts, and dipping their hands in the water with the utmost caution began to propel the craft towards the further bank.