"Where shall we get our luncheon, Fred?" asked George.
"I don't know yet. It will depend somewhat on where we are. If we can make Cape Vincent all right we'll have it there."
An hour later John said after he had looked out over the lake, "The wind is getting fresher. Don't you notice it, fellows?"
"Yes," said George. "I hope it will keep it up. I would like to be out here when the Black Growler was rolling a little. I would give a dime to see one of the Go Ahead boys seasick."
"Don't be so extravagant," retorted Fred. "You'll only have a chance to lose your money before night. The wind is rising," he added a moment later.
In the distance the boys saw occasional waves that now were capped with white. The Black Growler also had taken on a rolling motion and although all four of the Go Ahead boys declared that they enjoyed the experience it was noticed after a brief time that Fred was strangely quiet. He was still at the wheel and apparently devoting all his thought to his task.
"Say, fellows, will you take a look at Peewee?" demanded George about ten minutes later. "I believe he is getting sick."
Fred turned and glanced at his companions but did not speak. The color and expression of his face, however, were such as to arouse great elation among his passengers.
"That's the way, Peewee!" laughed John. "You'll have to give up your place at the wheel. I'm sorry that we haven't any doctor on board."
"There was an old fellow down on Long Island Sound," suggested George, "who used to tell us that the best cure for seasickness was a sweet apple and if that wasn't any good then he suggested swallowing a piece of raw salt pork with a string tied to it."