"Sure, he's got his mamy's blissed cook book along," observed the other, with one of his broad grins. "Didn't I say him studying it like a gossoon?"
"Poor George! I wouldn't be in his shoes for a cooky. But turn around again, Jimmie. I don't feel easy about this sort of cruising. That's why I've cut off some of our speed, you notice. Safety is my play first, and progress afterward."
"And a bully good motto, Jack, that always gets ye through all sorts of scrapes, right side up wid care. Ugh! did ye say that floater we passed? Sure it was a big tree, so it was. And av we'd slapped bang agin the roots, what a juicy hole they'd have knocked in our shiny side. Ye swerved just in the nick of time, Jacky, bye."
"Keep watching, and sing out if you see or hear anything."
Jack was keeping his hand on the alert, ready to reverse his engine at even a second's warning. Then he could swerve, if it became necessary to avoid some peril that suddenly loomed up ahead.
A train was moving slowly along ashore, and apparently groping its way, if one could judge from the many signal whistles heard. This rumbling sound was magnified in the fog until it seemed almost deafening at times. It annoyed Jack, for he was straining his heading to catch anything that came up the river.
Still, he had adopted all precautions that might occur to a careful cruiser, and under the circumstances it seemed a bit silly to think of halting in his progress down the stream.
Several hours passed thus, with both boys laboring under a constant strain.
"Would ye moind tilling me the time, Jack, darlint?" asked the Irish lad, still crouched in the bow as a lookout.
"Just twelve," replied the engineer, straightening up for a change, and as customary, casting a glance ahead as well as on either side; for if anything the atmosphere was just as thick as ever—indeed, Jimmie had more than once referred to it contemptuously as "pea soup!"