“Why, maybe we can find a house or some place where we can get some gasoline.”
“Gasoline will be a fine thing for us,” laughed Fred, his courage having returned with the knowledge that they were no longer on the open waters of the lake. “You’d better take the oars, Jack, and we’ll row on a little further. Even if we can see no light perhaps we can find a house.”
Once more the boys exchanged places and John rowed slowly along the shore.
Neither of the boys discovered any house, however, nor did they see any indications that the region was inhabited.
“We’re having a fine time here,” Fred said at last. “There doesn’t seem to be anybody living here. We haven’t anything to eat and we haven’t even a gun or a fishing-rod in our skiff.”
“We shan’t need any of them,” said John, “when the sun rises. We’ll be sure to find somebody who will take us back to Mackinac Island, or maybe the Gadabout will be looking for us.”
“My namesake acted as if he liked to spend a good deal of time searching for us,” said Fred scornfully. “I tell you, Jack, he has other business on hand.”
“Maybe we can take him back to the insane asylum and claim the reward,” suggested John.
“Or to state prison.”
“Yes, or he may be something else.”