“Besides,” said Tom, “we might give the whole city an awful scare if we took ’em unaware in the night.”
Once more, at dusk, the “Gray Gull” was anchored near shore. An uneventful night was passed, and about 9 A. M. on the following day the “Gray Gull,” Jack Lyons, master, had actually reached its destination—the city of Albany.
The capital of New York State is built on a succession of hills, and in the clear, bright sunlight presented a beautiful sight. The imposing capitol building loomed up prominently, and several other handsome edifices were pointed out by Redfern.
“Bet the governor is looking at us through a spy-glass right now,” said Joe.
Boats of all description crowded the water-front. There were saucy little skiffs, excursion steamers, and clumsy barges, some of them just in from their long trip through the Erie Canal. Puffing, panting tugs were going up and down the river. It was a picturesque and lively scene, and the boys crowding the deck of the house-boat gazed at the sights with much enjoyment.
All of Jack Lyons’ faculties were on the alert. Out in mid-stream, he was obliged to navigate with the greatest care, and often the “Gray Gull” wobbled violently on the swells sent forth by passing boats.
Norman Redfern looked rather grave. His trip on the house-boat had only placed him in a worse light than ever in Colonel Ellison’s eyes; and now that the journey was about over, and he thought of leaving the jolly company of boys, he could not shake off a feeling of sadness.
“It’s fine around here,” remarked Tom Clifton, his eyes sparkling with pleasure.
“There’s a good place to tie up,” declared Bob Somers, presently.
He pointed toward an old pier close at hand.