“About three hundred feet.”
“Oh! Well, where are we?”
“Pretty nigh off the mouth of the Wissining River. Where do you want to get to?”
“Wissining River! Then—then what boat’s that?”
“Steam yacht Princess, New York, at anchor.”
“Why, that——” began Harry excitedly.
“S-sh!” cautioned Gerald. Then, “Thank you,” he called to the invisible informant. “We’re all right then.”
Very cautiously The Dart circled away and made a detour of the yacht’s bow. “I didn’t want him to see us,” said Gerald with a chuckle. “He might have recognized the launch and told Dad some time. That was Purdy, the steward. Keep your eyes peeled, Kendall, and watch for the pier.”
A few minutes later The Dart was snuggled up to the float, the lines were made fast and the three boys were stumbling up the gangplank with their blankets flapping around them and their wet clothing in their arms. The fog seemed less heavy on shore, but it was still so thick that they almost reached the house before they saw it. Gerald led the way around to a side entrance, from which, treading softly and giggling as they went, they climbed to Gerald’s room without being seen. One after another they took possession of the bath-tub and then scrambled for the dry clothing that Gerald provided. The garments didn’t fit very well, but they answered the purpose. When a maid arrived in response to Gerald’s ring she was sworn to silence and given the wet clothing.