The people at the farmhouse welcomed them heartily, and the boys enjoyed a bountiful repast with some of the “men folks.”
An hour later, Aleck and George were lying in the shade of some fine old willows, watching eagerly for the house-boat.
The heat gradually increased; scarcely a breath of air seemed stirring.
Another hour passed, and George, who was lazily fanning his face with his handkerchief, started up.
“Hello, I’ll bet the ‘Gray Gull’ is coming,” he said. “See it?”
“Believe you’re right,” said Aleck, gleefully. “Won’t I be glad to see those chaps again?”
Eagerly, the two watched the dark spot gradually growing larger. It seemed to the boys as if the “Gray Gull” had never moved so slowly. Impatiently they ran along the beach toward it, giving several lusty yells and waving their arms.
“Hello, hello!” came faintly over the air, in Jack Lyons’ familiar voice.
Aleck put his fingers to his lips and whistled shrilly, while George shouted again.
The figures on the boat began to assume definite shape; then she was headed inshore. Enthusiastic greetings flew back and forth over the water, as though the boys had not seen each other for a month; and the boat had scarcely come to a stop before Jack Lyons leaped to the shore.