Their lusty shouts were borne toward the distant boatman.
How slowly the two craft seemed to swing in! It actually was but a short time, however, before the boys began a steady fire of questions.
"Hold on! Wait until I get these canal-boats safely in shore, and I'll tell you all about it," cried the poet laureate, hugely enjoying the sensation caused by his reappearance.
With another chorus of shouts, his friends surrounded him, as he leaped ashore.
"Give me a chance," pleaded the lad. "I can't answer fifty questions at once."
When quiet was restored, Dave told what had happened, interrupted by many exclamations from the deeply interested boys.
The poet laureate found himself raised to the rank of a hero, the praises showered upon him causing a blush to suffuse his features.
"Bully for you, Chubby!" said Bob Somers, grasping his hand, warmly. "Our trip would have come to a fine finish. Three more cheers for Dave Brandon," he called, with a will, and every one joined in.
"If it hadn't been for the 'Nimrod,' you would have lost your boat, anyway," declared Nat, who, through the entire proceeding, had acted in a restrained manner.
"It's a good thing that the 'Rambler' is a slow tub, fellows," put in John Hackett. "If the thieves had had brains enough to take the 'Nimrod,' it would have meant—"