"My boat is just itching to get a move on, fellows," he called out, as he started to leave the others. "So by-by until we meet up again at Station Four."
"Good luck to you!" cried Jack, waving his hand after the speed boys, one of whom looked anything but happy as he sat there with the life preserver belted on, and his fat hand clutching the brass after rail.
Presently Jack also considered that the pace was altogether too slow for him, much as it pleased Josh and Herb. Far ahead they could see the Wireless looking like a speck on the tumbling waters.
"Good-bye, fellows!" Jack called out as he too increased his speed, and began to draw ahead of the big launch.
"Off, too, are you?" laughed the easy going Herb. "Well, wait up for us below. And I say, Jack, if you get the chance, you might grab that nice fat reward that's out for the apprehension of the robbers. Five thousand ain't to be picked up every day, I'm telling you. And what with your great luck I believe it wouldn't be hard for the two of you to do it. Good-bye! Good luck!"
An hour later and those aboard the Tramp could just barely make out the last boat in the race. The Wireless had long since vanished from view in the hazy distance down-river way.
"What are you thinking about, Jimmie?" asked Jack, as he saw his boatmate sitting there with a queer look on his freckled face.
Jimmie grinned, as though tickled with what was passing through his mind.
"Sure, I do be pityin' that poor Buster," he observed. "Did ye not hear him tellin' how he longed so much to be havin' thim ilegant wings of his durin' the six hours George was tinkerin' wid the ingine? It was the chanct of his loife, so it was; and he says he would have been sportin' in the wather all the toime, learnin' to shwim loike a duck, by the same token. I've been wonderin' what he did wid the same, and I've come to the conclusion that he swallowed thim wings!"
"Oh! that's too much for me to believe, Jimmie," laughed his companion. "Whatever put such an idea into your head?"