"What time was that, Nick?" asked Jack, smiling.
"I asked George, and he said half-past one," replied the fat boy, hastening to get out his prize smoked pork and exhibit the same to the admiration of Jimmie.
"That so? Well, you did make fast time of it," remarked the skipper of the Tramp. "No use talking, George, that engine of yours does the trick; if you can only depend on it from now on, the cup is going to be yours for a dead certainty."
"Barring some accident, such as being upset in the big waves from steamboats," remarked Nick, shaking his head dubiously at several recollections that did not seem to give him much happiness. "My! you don't know just how we wallow, and nearly flop over on our beam ends at such times. I think I lose six ounces of flesh every narrow escape we have from swamping; and I keep wishing I had——"
"Stop right there!" shouted George. "Didn't I say I'd jump you if you ever gave another peep about those blessed things. Use the wings nature gave you the right way, and you'll swim like a goose. Why, you just couldn't go under. You'd be like an empty bottle with a cork in the neck, floating around."
Jack and Jimmie were laughing heartily at this little passage between the nervous skipper of the speed boat and his plump crew. But Nick made no answer, only looked reproachfully at George, as though wondering to what lengths his ingratitude would take him.
A short time later the others were astonished to see Nick come forth from the interior of the Wireless, upon which the tent had been erected, disrobed, but still wearing the cork life preserver about his body.
The air was none too warm, for it was now about the start of November; but evidently Nick had made up his mind to put into practice the idea Jack had advanced, and over which he had evidently been brooding the live-long day.
He stepped into the water, drew his foot up as if its coldness chilled him; then with a firm look on his fat face, pushed on until he was waist deep. Then he turned an appealing look toward Jack, which the other could not find it in his heart to resist.
"All right, Buster," he called out, waving his hand encouragingly. "Just wait five minutes, and I'll be with you. Perhaps a little ducking may be a good tonic, and make us enjoy that fine home-smoked ham you grabbed."