“Not without a lawsuit,” Penny offered as her opinion. “She sold the rock to Mr. Franklin for two dollars. Remember his final words: ‘Now I am the owner of the stone.’ Oh, he intended to trick her even then!”
The car turned into a private dirt road and soon halted beside a cabin of logs. A cool breeze came from the river, but the girls were prepared for it, having worn warm slack suits.
“It’s a grand night to sail,” Penny declared, leading the way to the boathouse. “We should get as far as the Marborough place if the breeze holds.”
Launching the dinghy, Louise raised the sail while her chum took charge of the tiller. As the canvas filled, the boat heeled slightly and began to pick up speed.
“Now use discretion,” Louise warned as the dinghy tilted farther and farther sideways. “It’s all very well to sail on the bias, but I prefer not to get a ducking!”
During the trip up the river the girls were kept too busy to enjoy the beauty of the night. However, as the boat approached Truman Crocker’s shack, the breeze suddenly died, barely providing steerage way. Holding the tiller by the pressure of her knee, Penny slumped into a half-reclining position.
“Want me to steer for awhile?” Louise inquired.
“Not until we turn and start for home. We’ll have the current with us then, which will help, even if the breeze has died.”
Curiously, Penny gazed toward Truman Crocker’s cabin which was entirely dark. High on the hillside stood the old Marborough mansion and there, too, no lights showed.
“Everyone seems to have gone to bed,” she remarked. “It must be late.”