“Well, Harry, this is going to be some cruise!”
“Humph! I’ve a notion it will be all of that and then some,” replied Harry Ware, as he and Ralph Stetson stood side by side on the bridge of the River Swallow. The dusk was deepening into night and the River Swallow lay at the Piquetville dock tugging at her hawsers, as if anxious to be off on what was to prove the most memorable trip of her career.
“We’re going to try conclusions with that Artful Dodger at last, and tie her up hard and fast, and certain members of her crew as well.”
“All well and good,” said Harry, “but just the same my advice would be to stay far away from that craft. She’s a bad one. I don’t like the idea of coming up with her.”
“More ghost shivers, eh?” laughed Ralph. “Stay ashore if you like, Harry.”
The Ware boy flushed crimson.
“What are you talking about? I’m not scared. Don’t you dare say I am, Ralph Stetson.”
“That’s all right, Harry,” soothed Ralph, with a laugh. “I know that when we catch the Artful Dodger you’ll be just as courageous as any one else. But till then——”
“You’ll please quit teasing me about that craft.”
“All right, if that’s the way you feel about it.”