Feeling that there was no necessity of prolonging the interview, Bob politely bade good-bye to Mr. Wingate and the disconsolate Nimrods. His companions did likewise, and they soon found themselves on the street.
"We won't have to hurry," said Bob; "the boat does not leave until eleven, and that will give us time enough to go to the post-office and send off our letters."
"Hasn't this been a funny trip?" remarked Dick Travers; "always something queer happening."
"Didn't Mr. Wingate want us to go back, though?" said Tommy Clifton; "and John Hackett was almost ready to boil over."
"Nat has caused all of them to be punished," added Dick; "it is our innings now."
"The Trailers surely have come to grief at last," said Sam Randall; "guess they don't think it so amusing when they happen to be on the wrong side of the game."
"Guess my dad will be frightfully worried," observed Bob, as they turned into the post-office.
Each of the Ramblers found several letters awaiting him. As Bob had thought, his parents were much agitated, fearing that the boys had been in considerable danger. Mr. Somers was greatly mystified at the various attempts on the motor boat, which had culminated in its final destruction, and intimated that there must be something back of it.
"Your mother and I don't want you to take any risks," read the letter. "The loss of the motor boat does not worry us so much as the fact that some one seems to be taking an extraordinary interest in your movements. While I would prefer to have you return home, I leave it to your own judgment as to what course to pursue."
"All right, Bob?" questioned Sam.