"Landed," muttered Matt.
"And stung," finished McGlory. "Wasn't it neat? Say, I take off my hat to Grattan. He's the king bee of all the tinhorns. Let's watch and see which way the Iris goes."
The boys watched, but under their staring eyes the lights vanished one by one from forward and aft, and from starboard and port. The cabin windows winked out in darkness, and the gloom of the river swallowed up the motor yacht. Her disappearance was helped by a cloud which floated across the face of the moon and threw the river into deepest shadow.
"Speak to me about that, pard!" exclaimed McGlory. "I wonder if it would do any good to send out telegrams?"
"I don't think it would, Joe," Matt answered, "but if there was a telegraph office handy, we'd try it."
"Let's find the place where the trains stop. If a train comes along pretty soon, we can get to a telegraph office."
When the cloud had swept on, and the moon shone out again, a survey of the place showed the boys a dark building at the top of the bank. They climbed up to the structure and found that it was an open shed, with benches. There was no light, and the cowboy struck a match and hunted for a time card. He could find none.
"Oh, hang such a place!" grumbled McGlory. "If we knew how far it was to the next station, pard, we could set out and hoof it."
"Haven't you done enough walking for one day, Joe?" asked Matt. "I believe I have. I'm going to sit down here and wait for a train to come along."
Suiting his action to the word, Matt dropped down on one of the benches. His chum took a place beside him.