“Saw everything. And your friend explained things to me. Oh, he’s such an interesting little fellow, and he isn’t a bit bashful, is he?”
“Well, not so you’d notice it,” said Harry.
All of Mr. Danforth’s party had now to congratulate him, and in the midst of it Raymond Vinton, corporal of the Hawks, appeared in the doorway of the cabin.
“Mr. Arnold,” said he, with a profound air of mock deference, “Goodwin, the daring aviator, has just sent a special message aboard asking if the victor of the boat-race would like to take a little joy ride with him over to Vermont. What shall I say?”
“Oh, isn’t that just lovely!” said Miss Antoinette.
“Great,” answered Harry. “Things are certainly coming my way. Here, Raymond, have you met Miss Crosby? Miss Crosby, Mr. Vinton is corporal of the Hawk Patrol, such as it is, and he’s great on deducing. You just waste a few minutes talking to him, won’t you, while I go on deck and see if they’re trying to guy me.”
But they were not “guying” him. Sure enough, there in a boat at the foot of the yacht’s steps sat a young man in a pair of greasy overalls. It was Goodwin’s mechanic.
“Harry,” said Dr. Brent, “go by all means. It’s a chance not to be lost. It isn’t every one who has such a dramatic opportunity of breaking his neck. And when you return, if you do, you’ll find the troop up at the float. If you are inclined to accept the poor hospitality of our humble camp after all this,” he added with a humorous smile, “you’ll find us waiting for you with the Swan.”
“The how?” asked Harry.
“The Swan, my boy, the boat you just saw. It is ours till September first—ours and paid for. Harry, my boy, I can see by the look in your eye that you are going to call your scoutmaster down for getting the troop mixed up in this racing affair—but we couldn’t resist the invitation, and your corporal, acting for you, voted to see it through. But as for the Swan, Harry, I will not hear one word against her.”