“No, I guess not. After chasing robbers and being fired at, I suppose I ought to have nerve enough to run a launch! Much obliged, just the same.”
An hour later two very tired boys were fast asleep, and, although nearly three miles apart, their dreams were strangely similar!
The next morning they were at the houseboat bright and early. In fact, the owners were still at breakfast on deck when the Turnover ranged alongside.
Seen by daylight, the Trainors—Mr. and Mrs. Trainor and Brother Jim—were very nice, jolly-looking folks, and very hospitable folks, too, for they insisted on the boys joining them at breakfast, and wouldn’t take “No” for an answer. And so, although they didn’t actually sit at the table, which was a modest if well-laden affair, they did partake of strawberries and cream and some delicious hot rolls and some equally delicious coffee. And while they ate, Arnold, occasionally prompted by Toby, gave a detailed account of the pursuit and bloodless defeat of the thieves. Mrs. Trainor, who was small and pretty, applauded delightedly and quite forgot her breakfast, while her husband gravely arose and shook Arnold and Toby by the hands.
“Boys,” he said. “You’re a brace of heroes! I take off my hat to you! Or I will when I get it on!”
Brother Jim echoed the sentiments, even if he didn’t stop eating for a moment.
“And you chaps have got a real prize in that launch, too,” said Mr. Trainor, reseating himself at the little table. “She’s a wonder. I’ll give you five hundred for her any time you say the word.”
Toby and Arnold stared at each other in amazed silence. Finally: “Five hundred!” stammered Toby. “You’re fooling, I guess!”
“You take a look at her,” replied the man, nodding his head toward the shoreward side of the houseboat. “We tied her around there for safekeeping. She’s somebody’s darling, that’s what she is!”
The boys set down their plates and hurried around the deck. There, nestling against the rail of the houseboat, was as trim and pretty a speed launch as either had ever seen. Mr. Trainor, who had followed them, smiled at their amazement. “I suppose you couldn’t see much of her last night,” he said. “Look at that engine, will you? A six-cylinder Thurston and as light as a feather! If that launch can’t do her twenty-two or -three miles I’m a goat! See the way she’s cut down aft, eh? Some lines, boys! And just cast your eyes over her fittings, will you? Everything A-1, and just about as complete as they make them. Why, some one paid a good round thousand for that little sixteen feet of boat! She’s dirty and her brass is tarnished, and some idiot has daubed a coat of gray paint over a dandy mahogany hull, but she’s a peach, just the same, and it’s dollars to doughnuts that those thieving rascals never owned her in their lives. They swiped her somewhere around here, I’ll bet, and I guess you’ve only to read the papers to find her owner. When you do find him, fellows, you make him hand over some real money.”