“Then keep your wits about you.”
“I couldn’t help overhearing your conversation,” exclaimed Mr. Atwood, pausing until the boys came up with him. “I do not think there is any danger, though I advise you—I’d forbid you if I had the authority—not to go ashore wherever the Admiral touches. Our crew has been selected with great care, and Captain Perkins is one of the best men on the lakes. Still, if you prefer, I’ll get your tickets and you can go right through to your destination by train.”
“We’d rather, at least I should rather, go up the lakes on the Admiral,” said Ted, flushing deeply to think his momentary lapse of courage had been noticed.
“Then go you shall,” smiled the ship-owner, and without more ado they went down to the float and entered a speedy-looking launch.
Scarcely had they seated themselves when the lines were cast loose, three men on the dock stepped aboard, the man at the engine pressed some levers, and the launch shot out into the lake.
“Look at those big boats anchored ’way out there,” exclaimed Ted, as the launch rounded an arm of the inlet, which sheltered Mr. Atwood’s boathouse and float, and gave them a glimpse of the city’s harbour within the breakwater.
“The one farthest out, from which you can see smoke rising, is the Admiral,” announced Mr. Atwood.
“What a beauty!” chorused both boys, while Phil added:
“How much ore can she carry?”
“A little more than thirteen thousand tons.”