The day was nice and clear after the fog and rain.
"Here's where we hit it up to make time, and pay for the slow traveling yesterday," the pilot announced, when he coaxed the steady going little motor to do its prettiest.
At noon they had reeled off something like sixty-odd miles, the current having assisted very much in advancing the boat.
Keokuk had been passed, and they were now aiming to reach Quincy by the middle of the afternoon. Just below this place the second station had been marked; and if, as was to be expected, George and Buster had arrived ahead of them, they might anticipate being signaled to draw in.
"It's right funny we don't say anything of the other byes at all," remarked Jimmie, while they were pushing steadily along, the engine working with clock-like fidelity, and never missing a stroke.
"Oh! I don't look at it that way. Unless some accident happens to George there's never the least chance that we can look in on him in that racer. And the same applies to the Comfort—if we go on as we have, they can never hope to catch up with us. And there you are," and Jack laughed as he spoke.
"Ye mane that we're betwixt the divel and the dape say," observed Jimmie, with one of his chuckles.
"Oh! now that's going it pretty steep," Jack protested. "The Comfort might come under the head of deep sea, or anything else that's big and slow and reliable; but it's pretty hard calling George's boat by that other name. But there's another railroad bridge across the river far below, unless the glass fools me. And if so, this must be Quincy just beyond."
"Hurrah! thin, we've arrived at the ind of the sicond stage of the journey, and right side up wid care. If ye choose to hand me the glass, Jack, I'll be afther lookin' for signs of the sassy little Wireless."
But it was some time after they had passed under the bridge spanning the Mississippi that Jimmie was able to announce that he believed he had discovered the object of his search.