Jack eagerly, for he had been sitting down on a stone to ease the pain of his injured leg. [91] [91] “It’s Tom all right!” exclaimed Dick, who was acting as sentinel. “Has he got the paper?” “Yes, there’s something white in his hand.” “Good!” exclaimed Tom’s college roommate. A few seconds later our hero rejoined his chums. There was a look of satisfaction on his face. “What is it?” demanded Bert eagerly. “I don’t know yet,” was the reply. “It’s all folded up, and I didn’t open it. Didn’t want to take the time. There’s no telling when they might miss it, and come back. I made tracks as soon as I saw I could safely advance and grab it up. Come on down to the boat.” “Go slow,” begged Jack, and they helped him down the slope. Not taking time to examine the bit of paper, Tom loosed the mooring line of his craft, and, pushing her out into the current, he let her drift down before starting the motor, as he did not want their enemies to hear the noise of the exhaust. “I guess it’s safe enough now,” spoke Jack, after a bit, from his position on a cushioned seat in the stern, his stiff leg stretched out in front of him. “Turn on the gas, Tom, and start her off.” This was done, and soon the Tag was making good time down the river toward the lake. [92] [92] “What about the feed?” asked Bert. “Seems to me we’ve earned it now, Tom.” “Let’s look at that paper first,” suggested Jack. “That’s more important than feeding our faces.” “Here it is,” spoke Tom, producing it from his pocket, while Dick took the wheel.
Prev.
Back
Top