“Not in the dark. You’ll drown your fool self.”
“Oh, I guess not. Sorry you can’t come along.”
“I’m not,” muttered Allan, as the door closed. “Pete’s a perfect idiot lately.”
After dinner the wind increased into a very respectable gale, and Allan fell to wondering whether Pete would be fool enough to attempt the trip back in the boat. At nine o’clock his uneasiness drove him forth. He fought his way down Main Street to Center, and so around to Pete’s lodgings. Lights in the windows reassured him, and he had half a mind to go back to his studies, but after a moment’s indecision he decided to go up for just a moment and tell Pete again what an idiot he had been. So he climbed the stairs and thrust open the door. At the table stood Tommy.
“Oh!” he said, “I thought you were Pete.”
“Isn’t he here?” asked Allan.
“No; I don’t know where he is.”
“I do,” Allan replied. Tommy was plainly uneasy when he learned of Pete’s trip. The two stayed until almost eleven. Then, as Pete had not returned, they went home together.
“He’s probably decided to stay there all night,” said Allan, hopefully. “Like as not, they wouldn’t let him come back.”
“I guess that’s it,” answered Tommy. “Pete wouldn’t be such a fool, anyhow, as to try and come down the river on a night like this.”