“He’s been gone long enough already to have rowed over there and back two or three times,” said Bob uneasily. “Toot your old whistle some more, Nel.”
And Nelson obeyed, blowing the whistle at intervals for the next hour and only ceasing when the air pressure gave out. And Tom refused to show up.
At twelve they began to think of luncheon.
“Wherever he is,” said Dan, “he’s safe enough. Trust Tommy to look after himself! I dare say he’s toasting himself in front of someone’s stove and eating caramels. So I say we go ashore and find some luncheon. Something tells me that it is approaching the hour.”
“Don’t happen to know how we’re going to get ashore, do you?” asked Nelson. Dan’s face fell.
“Thunder! That’s so; Tommy’s got the boat. Can’t we pull up anchor and chug over to the wharf?”
“I don’t want to try it,” was the reply. “We might make it all right and we might not. There are two or three small boats between here and there and I don’t want any bills for damages. Let’s see what there is in the larder.”
They went down together and rummaged.
“Here’s bacon,” said Nelson, “and plenty of bread.”
“And potatoes,” added Dan. “And cereal, although I never tried it for luncheon.”