“Where?”
“On the lake.”
“In what boat?”
“This un.”
The conversation was not taking the cheery turn for which Charlie had hoped.
“I guess I’ll get back, Phil,” he remarked, turning away.
“Not the slightest objection,” came from Phil.
In fifteen minutes the “Fearless” was racing through the turbulent water of the lake. Battery after battery of surging waves swept against the hull, often sending showers of shining drops spattering over the deck.
Gripped by the full force of wind and wave the motor yacht began to careen. Each instant Charlie Blake could see the city of Kenosha becoming more and more obscured behind the dull gray atmosphere.
“I call this perfectly stunning—one of the greatest of sports!” cried Bob.