“Since the law requires running lights when under way——”
“We didn’t show running lights ourselves last night, Stan,” John remarked, interrupting.
“That’s right, and well we didn’t, for they’d have found us sooner!”
“Anyhow, Nevens’ boats break the law all the time, it seems, and that alone is an indication of criminal guilt!”
“You’re right, John. I know this much—we’re on the trail of something big, and it ought to be out in the open before long when the G-men get on the trail!”
They went to sleep after that, and the alarm woke them late that night. They up-anchored, and sculled into the town pier; then they moored the Staghound securely, locked the cabin slide tightly, and hurried through the dark streets bound for Centerport. The last street car for the night was just leaving the tiny depot when they boarded it, and it bore them swiftly towards their home city, about ten miles away.
They alighted from the car at the center, and hurried homeward through the deserted streets.
“Nevens will stop at nothing to get us, John,” Stan said, as they got near home. “So don’t be surprised if some one is hanging around outside my house! He could locate our homes from the street directory and plant watches ’round them. We’ll have to get in by a roundabout way!”
This they did, going to Stan’s home first, coming to the house through a back street and over the back fence, quietly, and being admitted by Mrs. Sandborn. She was, of course, delighted to see her son and his chum; so was Mr. Sandborn, who was reading in comfort by a log fire at the fireplace.
“I’ll call your mother, John,” Stan’s mother said, going to the phone, “and let her know you are here while you and Stan raid the pantry.”