“It’ll be time enough for me to explain to you, my friend, when the occasion arrives. Meanwhile just see how smoothly we are speeding on our way.”
“You’re almost a poet,” laughed Fred, “and there isn’t wind enough to lift a feather. I think I’ll take the oars and row.”
John offered no objection and Fred accordingly seated himself and began to row.
The day was warm and the beams of the sun, which now was high in the eastern sky, were strongly reflected from the smooth waters of Lake Huron. Indeed, it was not long before the wind died away and the boys were nearly becalmed.
“We’re almost as idle as a painted ship upon a painted ocean, aren’t we, Jack?” demanded Fred.
“No, we are not,” said John. “Not at all, thank you. We’re not idle and we’re not going to be. I’m going to have my crew keep on rowing.”
“I hope you’ll set a good example.”
“That’s just what I intend to do,” said John. “You change places with me and I’ll show you how the thing ought to be done.”
Without expressing the thought in his mind each boy was keeping a sharp outlook over the waters for the swift little Gadabout. Both somehow were expecting that the motor-boat either had not departed from the region or would surely return when morning came.
An hour or more had elapsed, however, and no trace of the Gadabout had been discovered. Far away over the waters the faint trace of smoke left by the passing lake steamers could be seen.