“There comes the steamboat! The captain is heading to cut them off,” said Frank.
“But he’s too far away. Besides, it’s too shallow in there, and if he knows his business he’ll never try to go much closer. A fire is bad enough, not to speak of a stranded boat,” observed Bluff.
The two men in the double canoe were working like steam-engines to make progress. They handled the paddles fairly well in unison, and as Frank had said, showed a familiarity with the blades that spoke of former experiences.
As the three boys paddled on they saw the leading canoe shoot up on the shelving beach. Then the tramps scrambled ashore.
“Hold on there, you!” bellowed Bluff, in his excitement; “we want to talk with you!”
For answer the two men only made derisive motions. Then they vanished in the thick timber.
“They’re gone, all right, boys. I reckon it will take some hunting to find such slippery rascals again,” remarked Frank, with a laugh; for it was not his packet that had been stolen, and he had no reason to be deeply concerned.
“What will we do now?” demanded Bluff, looking as disappointed as though he had just lost a race.
“Recover our canoe, and put across the lake to where Will stands on that dock.”
“But see here, Frank, do you mean to let those fellows get away?” asked Jerry.