CHAPTER XV--SKIMMING THE WAVES

The next morning dawned without a cloud in the sky, and the boys were so anxious to get started that they could hardly take breakfast. Crisp brown bacon and fried eggs are not to be lightly ignored, however, and they managed to eat a pretty hearty meal, starting on their expedition immediately afterward.

"We couldn't have picked out a better day if we'd planned for a week ahead of time," observed Joe. "If we can only get that boat now, everything will be fine and dandy."

"I think we'll be able to get it, all right," said Bob. "The only thing that can stop us is the chance that Mr. Harvey will want to use it himself, and even then, likely enough, he'd take us along."

"Well, there's no use worrying about it till we get there," said Jimmy philosophically. "Even if we can't get it, I guess we'll be able to survive the shock."

But when they arrived at the big station they found their misgivings had been groundless. Mr. Harvey seemed very glad to see them, and when they asked him about the motor boat he told them to "go as far as they liked."

"I'm pretty busy here these days, and don't have much time to use it myself," said the radio man. "You boys will be welcome to the use of it to-day, or any other time. It seems a shame for it to be lying idle a day like this."

"Well, if you'll show us where you keep it, we'll see that it gets a little exercise," said Bob.

"Sure thing," said the wireless man. "Come along."

He led the boys a short distance from the station to a narrow inlet that ran back from the ocean. At the head of this inlet was a snug little boathouse which Brandon Harvey unlocked.

"There she is," he said, a note of pride in his; voice. "What do you think of her?"

"She's a little beauty!" exclaimed Bob. "That's a mighty nifty boat, Mr. Harvey."

The others were equally unqualified in their praise, because the boat was a beautiful model, twenty-five feet long, with a snug little hunting cabin built up forward. It had a sturdy four cylinder engine, and everything looked to be in perfect order.

Mr. Harvey was evidently pleased by their appreciation of his pet, and pointed out some of the boat's good qualities.

"She's as staunch as they make 'em," he said. "She's a mighty seaworthy and dependable little craft. I think you'll find plenty of gasoline in the tank, so you won't have to worry about anything. I only wish I could go with you."

"I wish you could," said Bob. "But we'll take the best of care of it, and we'll be back before dark. We'll not go far, anyway."

"Well, enjoy yourselves," said Brandon Harvey. "Can you get the engine started all right?"

For answer Bob gave the flywheel a twirl, and the engine started upon the first revolution. Joe took the wheel, while Bob acted as engineer. They backed carefully out of the boathouse, and then shifted into forward speed and proceeded slowly down the creek toward the bay, the engine throttled down until one could almost count the explosions, and yet running sweetly and steadily, without a miss.

"Say, this engine is a bird!" said Bob enthusiastically. "Just make out I wouldn't like to own a boat like this!"

"Who wouldn't?" asked Joe. "It's about the neatest boat of its size I ever saw. I'll bet it can go some if you want it to, too."

"We'll, you know Mr. Harvey told us it could make twenty-five miles an hour, and that's fast enough to beat anything but a racer," said Herb.

By this time they had reached the mouth of the creek, and the whole expanse of the big bay opened out in front of them. There was just enough breeze to ruffle the surface of the water, upon which the sun played in a million points of flashing light. The cool, exhilarating salt wind filled their lungs, and they shouted and sang with the pure joy of living.

"A life on the ocean wave, a home on the rolling deep!" chanted Jimmy. "Whoever wrote that song knew what he was talking about."

"He'd probably never have written it if he had known you were going to sing it," said Joe.

"You mind your own business and steer the boat," retorted Jimmy. "I've got lots of courage to sing at all with you steering us. You'll likely run us onto a rock or a sandbar before we fairly get started."

"Leave that to me," said Joe. "The nearest sandbar is about half a mile away now--straight down."

"Well, that isn't any too far for safety when you're the pilot," said Jimmy. "Anyway, I'm going up on top of that cabin and have a sun bath. Please don't wreck us until I have a chance to rest up a little, will you? It looks like a long swim to shore."

"Go ahead then, you blooming landlubber," grinned Joe. "Leave the running of the ship to a real salty old mariner like me."

With a grunt that might mean anything, Jimmy clambered up on the low cabin, and in a few minutes, lulled by the gentle motion of the boat, was sound asleep. Herb propped himself comfortably against the side of the cabin and gazed dreamily out over the bright expanse of the bay. Bob opened the throttle a little, and the boat picked up speed, her sharp bows cutting through the water in fine style, with a slow rise and fall as they went further from shore and began to feel the ocean swell. White clouds flecked the deep blue sky, and sea gulls wheeled and soared overhead, calling to one another and ever and anon swooping swiftly downward to seize some unfortunate fish that had ventured too near the surface.

The splash and gurgle of the water alongside was beginning to make the boys feel drowsy when they suddenly noticed another boat ahead of them. This craft was holding a course diagonal to their own, so that the two boats were drawing slowly together, although at present they were perhaps a mile apart.

"There are some other people out enjoying themselves," said Bob. "Wonder if they're anybody we know."

"We'll soon be close enough to tell," said Joe. "By Jimmy!" he exclaimed, a few moments later. "I believe we do know 'em, Bob, worse luck. Don't you recognize that big fellow that's steering?"

Bob shaded his eyes with his hand and gazed steadily for a few seconds.

"Buck Looker!" he exclaimed finally. "And if I'm not much mistaken, his whole gang is with him."

"Yes, I can see Carl Lutz and that little beast, Terry Mooney," said Joe. "And I guess they've recognized us, too. See how they're pointing in this direction?"

The motor boats were drawing closer together, and their occupants could now see each other plainly. Looker and his friends were in a freakish looking craft. It looked as though it might have been a speed boat once, but now wore a shabby and dilapidated air.