“Let’s anchor here,” said Jack. “Tide’s running in fast; but we don’t need to get excited about it.”
“That’s right,” said Joe. “Grub time can’t be made to wait for anything less than an earthquake or cyclone.”
“I’ll cook to-night,” went on Jack. “Your turn to-morrow, Joe. Scat, Confuse-us! What’s that, Joe? Do you want a menu card? I’ll write one out, and——”
“Oh, hang the ‘me knew’ card, you silly amateur pirate,” said Joe. “If me knew, I wouldn’t have asked. Tell us gently what it’s going to be.”
“Sing it to him,” grinned Aleck. “Say, that’s a nice little launch coming across.”
“It’s the ferry,” explained Jack, with an air of superior wisdom. “Runs between Yonkers and this big pile of rocks,—been on it often.”
The “Gray Gull” was run nearer the shore; then Jack shut off power, and, a minute later, the anchor was heaved overboard and disappeared with a tremendous splash in the rippling water.
Deep shadows were soon stealing over the landscape; and the towering crags outlined themselves against golden clouds and pearly green sky.
When dusk came, Jack lighted the lanterns.
“I know one thing about this river business, anyway,” he remarked.