“I tell you the boat was there,” Josh persisted; “and if the mean old moon hadn’t just bobbed behind that cloud up yonder, all of you might have had a chance to glimpse her.”
“But you had one look at her, didn’t you?” asked Jack.
“Sure I did. And because I didn’t hear any noise of a motor I just had to stare,” came the ready reply.
“Was it a white pleasure boat?” continued Jack.
“Not much. I could have seen that sort right along, moon or no moon. I know what you’re thinking, Jack.”
“All right. Was it a dark-colored launch, then?” the other demanded.
“This time it’s yes—a long, low, narrow craft, that seemed to just spin along like a shadow itself. But I know it was a boat, because I could see the water curling over, where the bow cut through,” Josh went on.
“You hear that, fellows?” Jack remarked. “And of course, you understand what it means to us?”
“That boat was the Flash, and Clarence has found us out at last?” said George; not without a trace of eagerness in his voice; for so well had his speed launch been behaving of late that he was anxious to test her against the newer craft of Clarence Macklin.
“Just like him to come sneaking around at night to see how he can do us some rotten injury,” grunted Nick.