“If we could only get it,” sighed Peggy.
“Yes, if,” was the rejoinder from Roy, “but we can’t steal it, and, as you say, it might spoil everything if Fanning Harding thought that we had overheard any of his talk.”
“Look out!” warned Jeff Stokes in a whisper the next instant. The warning did not come a bit too soon. The door of the hut opened and the party which had been in conference inside emerged. They made straight for the motor boat, which Jeff Stokes had, in the meantime, recognized as one that was for hire at Sandy Bay.
“Come on, boys, we’ve got to be getting back,” urged Fanning moving quickly and preparing to shove the craft off.
“Wait till I chuck some of this truck in,” grumbled Giles.
He stooped and rapidly threw in the ropes and other gear scattered about. Then as Fanning Harding and the flabby-faced butler shoved the craft off he made a hasty scramble for the boat’s bow, leaping in as she floated free of the beach.
“H’I soy,” shouted Morgan, “you forgot the bloomin’ gasolene.”
“Better put back and get it,” growled Giles; “if you fellows had helped me a bit instead of givin’ advice it wouldn’t have bin forgotten.”
“Oh, we can’t bother with it now,” struck in Fanning, impatiently, “we’ve plenty in the tank to take us back. I’m not going to delay any longer.”
He spun over the fly wheel as he spoke and the motor boat began to cut rapidly through the water headed for Sandy Bay. As soon as it had gone a safe distance the three stranded young adventurers joined hands and executed a wild war dance of joy. By a means almost miraculous they had fallen across the very thing they needed.