Ross allowed this warning to go unanswered. The light of the other boat dwindled away and vanished in the gloom.
"This is far enough, I reckon," Ross remarked, halting the Sprite. "You can leave him alone now, Kinky," he added. "He could yell till he's black in the face and no one would hear him; but, if he knows what's good for him, he won't whoop it up while we're close to him. Pull the rowboat up alongside, Kinky."
Ross lifted the hood and leaned down into the space reserved for the motor and the gasoline tanks.
"Confound it!" he exclaimed, lifting himself erect, "I wish I had that lantern now."
He continued to grumble and work around in the bow of the boat. At last he finished his labor, whatever it was, and turned to Kinky.
The latter was holding the rowboat alongside the launch. The task was none too easy, as the swell was bumping the boats together and then forcing them apart.
"What am I to do, Ross?" asked Kinky. "I can't hang on here much longer."
"Get into the rowboat and take the oars," ordered Ross.
"Ain't you going along with me?"
"Sure, when I get through."