Larry Dexter and the Stolen Boy; or, A Young Reporter on the Lakes

by Howard Roger Garis

“It shows how desperate they are, and that we are after the right parties,” decided Larry, speaking of the kidnappers.

“But how do you suppose they knew we were after them?” asked Grace, when, during a little lull in the storm, they could eat and drink without having to hold on to something solid with one hand.

“Oh, they are like most criminals, suspicious, I suppose,” answered the young reporter. “Then, too, we have been making any number of inquiries about them, and this yacht is one that easily attracts attention. Once it was known that those aboard the Elizabeth were looking for a suspicious-looking craft, those on that same craft, if they had a guilty conscience, would hurry to get away.”

“And they’ll get away as far and as fast as they can,” spoke Mr. Potter. “If it hadn’t been for this storm, I believe we could have caught them, even after they cut us adrift. As it is, we are going to have no end of trouble.”

Madame Androletti was very nervous, and at every pitch and toss of the yacht she started up as though she feared they were going to the bottom. The others did all they could to reassure her, but it was plain that the strain of the last two months was telling on her.

The storm seemed to grow worse, instead of better, as the early hours of morning ticked themselves off. The wind blew a gale, and the thunder and lightning were incessant. The rain, which had not been severe at first, rapidly increased in violence, until it fairly swept the deck in a deluge, adding to the work of the waves.

But the downpour served one good purpose. It was so heavy at times that it actually beat down the crests of the billows, and that made the boat ride a little easier.

Meanwhile the engine-room force had been working hard on the disabled motor. It was no small task, at best, to replace the gasket, which is like a big washer, designed to make a gas-tight joint between the cylinder and the head. To work in cramped quarters in a storm, with the boat almost standing one on his head, it was all the engineer and his assistants could do.

But they finally accomplished it. The motor had been run at top speed during this time, and now, with some of the strain taken off it, when its mate resumed duty the craft might do better.

“Well, Mr. Potter, we are going to try and run with both motors now,” the engineer reported, about five o’clock that morning. What a long night it had seemed since twelve!