Both of them watched closely for an opening. If the Danube was anything like the rivers they were accustomed to in their home land an occasional little bayou was likely to occur, an indentation in the shore line where possibly some creek emptied its waters into the greater stream.
If only they could find some such a friendly harbor it was Jack’s idea to push the motorboat in and remain secreted during the entire day. He had an idea that the region they were now passing through was rather wild and not settled very thickly, which fact was apt to please them considerably.
Josh happened to wake up about this time and wanted to know what was going on. When he was told that morning was not far distant he could hardly believe it until Jack asked him to notice where the moon had gotten far over in the west, for it was possible to locate the heavenly luminary behind the clouds.
“All right, then,” he remarked, after George had informed him what they were bent on doing, “there’s your little crook in the shore just ahead of us.”
“You’ve certainly got the eyes of a cat, Josh,” George told him; “because it is what we’re looking for, as sure as anything.”
Jack was already making use of the setting-pole to urge the motorboat toward the shore. As the current proved very mild close in, he did not have much difficulty in doing this.
They managed to enter the cove, for such it proved to be. As far as they could see in the wretched light it was surrounded by thickets and lush grass.
“Just the sort of place we wanted to run across,” remarked George; “and the celebrated Stormways luck still holds good, it seems.”
They soon had the boat fast to the bank. It was then that Buster sat up and commenced yawning at a terrific rate.
“Here, what’s going on out there?” he asked cautiously. “Have we got fast on a sandbar? Do you want any help pushing off?”