Before The Ark had quite ceased its motion a deep honking sounded in the direction of River Street and the boys turned to watch smilingly and proudly the gallant approach of a green and yellow motor truck on the seat of which sat Jimmy Brennan. The truck drew up behind The Ark and Jimmy shut off the engine and climbed down.
“Well, here’s your trunk, Will. If you’ll give me your ticket I’ll check it for you.”
“Thanks, Jimmy. Here you are.” And Willard rather importantly pulled a pocket-book from the recesses of his jacket and produced his ticket. “How does she run?”
“Run? She doesn’t run,” replied Jimmy proudly. “She glides! I’ll be back in a minute, fellows.”
“It was a fine thing, our finding Jimmy,” said Willard reflectively.
“I should say so! We’d never have got anywhere without him.”
“I feel sort of guilty, though, running away and leaving you two fellows to do all the work.”
“You needn’t. We’ll get on all right.”
“I know that. Only I feel as though I ought to be here helping. Anyway, I’m glad we’re all straight with Mr. Connors. He was pretty decent, wasn’t he, Tom?”
“Yes, he was. The thing I liked best about him was his not insisting when we refused to take his money that morning.”