“Just too late again!” sighed Mr. Damon. “We’ll never get Ned!”
“We may!” shouted Tom. “Look!” He pointed across the lake, and about half a mile out was discerned a motorboat containing three men. “There they are—I’m sure of it!” cried Tom. “Now if we only had another boat to chase them!”
“There’s a feller a little farther on who rents motorboats,” volunteered Bill Tagg.
“Good!” cried Tom. “We’ll chase them in their own way. Where’s that motorboat chap?”
The tramp pointed out the dock, and in a short time, leaving his runabout in charge of the boat proprietor, Tom and his friends were in a sturdy gasoline craft giving chase to the other, which was now but a speck amid the blue waters of Lake Carlopa.
“Do you think they have Ned with them?” asked Mr. Damon while Tom hastily adjusted the motor so as to get the maximum speed from the boat.
“I hope so,” was the reply. “We’ll soon find out, if this old tub can stand the pace.”
“Have we a chance?” asked Bill, who was taking quite an interest in this pursuit.
Tom looked at the fleeing boat. Then he calculated the speed of the craft he had hired. A few minutes of observation caused him to make this remark:
“We’re gaining on them—slowly. Whether we catch up to them before they get to the other side is a question. We’ll do our best to catch ’em, however.”