“I don’t know! I hope so,” said Tony as he shook his head to get the water, that was dripping from his hair, out of his eyes.
The engines seemed to increase their speed. They throbbed like the heart of an athlete at the end of a two-mile run. Then, as the muffler was cut out, the explosions came with deafening power.
Closer and closer to the rowboat came the motor craft. Jim was pulling with all his strength at the oars. Now his boat was but a hundred feet from shore. But, like an eagle swooping down, the Porpoise was after him.
“Get ready to jump!” called the captain. “Put her broadside to the shore,” he added to Tony. “We can’t stop without ramming the mud unless you do.”
“Aye, aye, sir!” called Tony tersely.
Then, in a smother of foam, and passing so close that the wash rocked, and nearly upset the rowboat, the motor craft passed her, and shot up along shore.
The captain reversed the screw, and the blades churned up the water until it seemed that a small volcano was beneath the waves.
“Jump and run for it!” the owner of the Porpoise called to Larry.
The boy needed no second bidding. Over the side he went, while the craft was still moving at good speed. He jumped into about two feet of water and then, reaching into his pocket to see if his precious copy was safe, he started on a run up the hill toward the telegraph office. The crowd set up a cheer, though they did not know what for, except that there had been a race and someone had won.
The waves created by the passage of the Porpoise prevented Jim from rowing steadily, and it was several minutes later before he was able to land Peter. The boy jumped ashore and started to run after Larry.