“Ja-a-a-a-ck, Ja-a-a-a-a-ck!”
“Whee, what a howl!” said Aleck.
“Settles it, anyway,” laughed Jack, as he followed Bob’s advice.
Laboriously the “Gray Gull” began to turn around, and was finally headed for the wharf. The figures on it began to grow more distinct.
Then came Bobby’s shrill voice again:
“Jack, I remember now what I wanted—send me some picture postal cards.”
And Joe slapped Jack on the back; and Jack laughed heartily, and yelled back, “All right, Bobby!” And again the course of the “Gray Gull” was changed, and soon the wharf and the figures grew faint again.
Keeping close inshore, the “Gray Gull” was often rocked by the long swells from passing craft. The Harlem River presented quite a busy scene, although they were beyond the portion where the traffic is greatest.
Occasionally, they were hailed from the deck of some barge or schooner, and the occupants of a motor boat speeding swiftly by gave a series of derisive yells. But the boys only laughed, and waved their hands, feeling that they wouldn’t exchange the “Gray Gull” for all the gasoline launches in New York.
Joe, sweeping the landscape with Dave’s telescope, uttered so many exclamations of surprise and pleasure that Aleck promptly wrested the glass from his hands.