Unable to restrain himself, Ralph rushed up on deck. What he saw caused him to utter a shrill whoop of joy, which was echoed in a feeble croak by old man Whey.
“We’re off!” shouted the boy.
“See here, you get below and mind your engines,” chuckled old man Whey. “I’m the temporary skipper of this craft.”
CHAPTER XXXII.
A JOYOUS MEETING.
It was some two hours after the floating of the River Swallow, which proved as staunch as ever, that a group of persons on board a speedy, trim little motor tender spied the craft coming toward Piquetville with a “bone in her teeth.”
Joy that verged on the delirious ran riot on the tender, which was the River Swallow’s own boat, when, from the side of the fast motor craft, came a puff of white smoke, a loud report and then the stars and stripes fluttered out in all their glory on the after flagstaff.
“Whoop-ee! Zing! zang! zabella!” cried Harry Ware exultingly. “It’s good old Ralph! The old bull-dog has won out!”
“I knew he would. I’ll bet he’s got that gang imprisoned on board there right now!” cried Percy Simmons.
“Look! There he is on the bridge!” cried Jennings, indicating a figure at the wheel.
“Is that Ralph?” questioned Percy hesitatingly.