“Turn out, you sleepy heads!  The sun’s coming up!”

“That’s Jack, of course,” grumbled Josh, thrusting his tousled head out from the curtains of the big launch, and digging his knuckles into his eyes.  “Say, have you been awake all night?  Don’t you ever sleep, Jack?”

All were soon astir, and preparations made for a meal.  Jimmie, of course, was keenly awake to the fact that he could pick up a few points by watching the boss cook of the entire outfit; and hence he turned his eyes toward the Comfort many times while busy with his own duties.

Jack and Herb took things easy, sitting in the bow of their respective boats and swapping experiences.  Of course both the others had been deeply interested in the story about the descent of the police and the daring escape of the mysterious boat manned by the two robbers.  And Herb never wearied asking questions concerning the thrilling events of that night.

When breakfast was finally a thing of the past, both boats were started out of the creek.  Finding a good anchorage not far distant, they settled down for a wait, the length of which no one could prophesy.

But Jack, after making preparations for an indefinite stay, electrified the rest when he declared that he believed he had sighted the missing launch far up the river and coming like a streak of light.

It was no mistake, as the rest declared once they had taken an observation.  And when the lost boat drew near, such a dreadful clamor as broke forth, both Jimmie and Josh blowing conch shell and tin horn for all they were worth; while Nick did his best to drown them out with his own battered musical instrument.

“Same old story,” laughed George, as they came alongside.  “Don’t rub it in too hard, fellows.  Breakdown right when we were doing the best stunt of the trip.  Only for that it would have been a record breaker of a run between second and third stations for the Wireless.  Gee! but she can fly when she takes the bit between her teeth.”

“And gee! but she can bite though,” grunted Nick, as usual rubbing his haunches and putting on a most forlorn expression.

“Well, what’s the use of staying here?” remarked Herb.  “It’s now past eight, and time we were on the move.  It’s just a picnic for Josh and me.  We sail along like a big house, and nothing disturbs us.  Josh cooks to beat the band; only I don’t believe he eats more’n a bite each meal himself.”

“That’s where you’re away off, commodore,” asserted the other.  “Why, I’m feeling ever so much better since I started.  If it keeps on I’ll soon be able to get away with my full share of the prog, as well as the rest of you all but Buster.  I never want to run a race with that ”

“Don’t you dare call me a hog,” cried the fat boy, pretending to get ready to hurl a big spoon, which he was wiping, at the cook of the other boat.

“I didn’t, leave it to the rest if I did.  You’re the only one who mentioned the name at all,” grinned Josh, ready to dodge behind his skipper if necessary.

It being decided to get away without further delay, the start was soon made, and once more the three boats began their progress toward the Land of Dixie.

For a change George did not rush off immediately; nor did Jack put on speed so as to leave the Comfort behind.  Truth to tell, they wanted to chat some more; and talk of future plans when they should get farther along in the journey.  For by now it had been impressed upon the minds of them all that “the worst was yet to come,” as Jack put it.

An hour later and George believed he had loitered long enough.

“My boat is just itching to get a move on, fellows,” he called out, as he started to leave the others.  “So by-by until we meet up again at Station Four.”

“Good luck to you!” cried Jack, waving his hand after the speed boys, one of whom looked anything but happy as he sat there with the life preserver belted on, and his fat hand clutching the brass after rail.

Presently Jack also considered that the pace was altogether too slow for him, much as it pleased Josh and Herb.  Far ahead they could see the Wireless looking like a speck on the tumbling waters.

“Good-bye, fellows!” Jack called out as he too increased his speed, and began to draw ahead of the big launch.

“Off, too, are you?” laughed the easy going Herb.  “Well, wait up for us below.  And I say, Jack, if you get the chance, you might grab that nice fat reward that’s out for the apprehension of the robbers.  Five thousand ain’t to be picked up every day, I’m telling you.  And what with your great luck I believe it wouldn’t be hard for the two of you to do it.  Good-bye!  Good luck!”

An hour later and those aboard the Tramp could just barely make out the last boat in the race.  The Wireless had long since vanished from view in the hazy distance down-river way.

“What are you thinking about, Jimmie?” asked Jack, as he saw his boatmate sitting there with a queer look on his freckled face.

Jimmie grinned, as though tickled with what was passing through his mind.

“Sure, I do be pityin’ that poor Buster,” he observed.  “Did ye not hear him tellin’ how he longed so much to be havin’ thim ilegant wings of his durin’ the six hours George was tinkerin’ wid the ingine?  It was the chanct of his loife, so it was; and he says he would have been sportin’ in the wather all the toime, learnin’ to shwim loike a duck, by the same token.  I’ve been wonderin’ what he did wid the same, and I’ve come to the conclusion that he swallowed thim wings!”

“Oh! that’s too much for me to believe, Jimmie,” laughed his companion.  “Whatever put such an idea into your head?”

“Becase he ates iverything he says.  Josh is right whin he calls him a human billy goat, so he is.  I wouldn’t put it past him, now,” and Jimmie shook his head in an obstinate manlier, as if to show he could not be persuaded differently; so Jack did not waste time trying.

As before, the day wore on, and with the coming of the hour which was to mark the close of the run they began to carefully watch the bank as they flew along, in the hope of discovering a friendly haven of refuge.

These things may seem a bit wearisome, but they became an important part of the daily program with the venturesome small boat cruisers, and as necessary as partaking of their meals.

Once more luck seemed to favor them, for after a long search Jimmie discovered what seemed to be a series of little coves, in one of which they could doubtless find water enough to float the Tramp.

It was almost dusk by now, and they would have to deduct considerable time from their balance sheet in making up the record for the day’s run, according to the conditions set for the participants in the race.

“Think we can get in?” asked Jack of his mate; for Jimmie was in the bow, using a pole to test the depth of the water.

“Aisy it is, wid plenty of wather, and to spare,” came the reassuring reply.

So, urging the boat gently on, Jack sent her over the bar and into what proved to be a splendid little cove, apparently just made for a haven of refuge to small craft, risking the dangers of the vast river flood.

“Snug as a bug in a rug!” declared Jack, joyfully, as they came to a stop in the cove, being able to run alongside the bank, which fact would allow of their going ashore if they chose.

Jimmie looked about him a bit nervously.

“Sure it’s mesilf is wonderin’ if we’ll have the luck to run slap up against that other motor boat agin,” he called out, as Jack happened to be bending over the engine at the moment.

The skipper made no response, as his attention happened to be taken up just then with something that required a little work.  But the words had been spoken loud enough to have been heard twenty yards away in that quiet nook.

“I wouldn’t shout so, if I were you, Jimmie,” remarked Jack a little later, as he came back to where the other was getting the tent ready for erecting over the boat.

“Why, who’s agoin’ to hear me, sure?” demanded Jimmie, at the same time casting a nervous glance around at the heavy growth of bushes and trees that bordered their little cove.

“Oh!  I don’t suppose there’s a human being within a mile of us right now,” admitted Jack, laughingly; “but all the same it isn’t good policy to tell all you know.  Nobody can be sure there isn’t some tramp lying hidden in these woods.  And we don’t want company, you see.”

Frequently after that Jimmie would turn to glance around him, even while he was building the fire ashore and cooking the supper over it for a change.  He could not get the warning of his boatmate out of his head, and Jack noticed that for a wonder the usually merry and light-hearted Irish lad made no attempt to carol any of his favorite school songs that evening.

They sat there by the fire a long while after eating.  The night air had grown a bit cool, for it was October, when the early frosts nip. vegetation in the north; and even this far south the coming of night brings a change from the warm day.

And about nine o’clock Jack, feeling his eyes growing heavy, wondered whether it would not be wise for them to turn in.  They had concluded, since everything seemed so safe, to try sleeping ashore for a change from the narrow quarters aboard the little motor boat; and the blankets were already lying in a heap; in fact, one served Jack as a means of keeping him from coming in contact with the bare ground as he sat there writing in his log book and figuring out the respective positions of the participants in the race, up to that time.

“I say, Jimmie,” he began, when, looking around, he discovered that he was alone, the other having crept away at some time while Jack was busily employed.

“Now, where under the sun did that boy go to?” Jack said to himself, as he turned his head this way and that in the endeavor to see some sign of the missing one.

Presently he made another strange discovery.

“Well, I declare, if he didn’t take my little Marlin gun along with him,” he muttered, failing to find the weapon where he felt sure he had laid it down.

This gave him food for more serious thought.  He remembered now how Jimmie had been impressed with that chance remark of his about the possibility of danger in the shape of concealed hoboes.  Evidently, unable to resist the temptation, Jimmie had silently picked up the gun and crept away to make the rounds of their immediate neighborhood, his design being to learn whether there could be any hobo camp near by.

“Oh! well, I suppose I’ll just have to sit here and wait for him to come back, after he’s had his little turn.  A queer boy Jimmie is, and inclined to be superstitious.  Perhaps he’s looking for a ghost right now, or one of those banshee’s the Irish people believe in.  Hello!  I believe I hear something moving over there!  Wonder if that’s Jimmie now?”

Jack had arisen to his feet as he watched to discover what came in sight.  Although he might not have confessed to the fact that he was excited, still his hand was trembling a little as he held back the branch of the tree to see better.

“Of course it’s Jimmie.  But what does he act that way for?  Why is he beckoning to me and holding a finger on his lips, just as if he’d taken a turn to tell me not to call out.  What has the boy discovered now, I wonder?”

Jack awaited the coming of his comrade, who was crawling along, looking back every little while as though fearful lest he had been followed.

“What under the sun ails you, Jimmie?” asked Jack, in a low tone, as the other reached his side.  “Have you gone clean daffy, and are you seeing things that no decent, self-respecting boy ought to see?”

“H’sh!” whispered the other mysteriously; and then after another quick look in the direction from whence he had just come, he went on hurriedly:  “They’re roight over there, Jack, me bye, both of ’em as big as loife, wid the sassy little motor boat alongside in another cove; and Jack, they belaves us to be officers of the law, come to take thim till the bar of justice.  I know it, becase I heard ’em talk!”