Grant as he spoke.

"Huh," spoke up Fred. "It's a pity there isn't enough gray matter
somewhere in this crowd to spell me at the wheel. I have run all
the way from New York and I'm tired and yet there isn't a fellow
here who is able to steer this boat."

"Beg your pardon," said John. "Ill steer her with great
gladness."

"I don't doubt your 'gladness,' " said Fred. "What I'm afraid of
is your ability. If it was Grant now steering and we struck a
rock he would never own up that that wasn't the very place he was
steering for. However, String, take hold here awhile and give me
a rest."

"Where are we going to stop for dinner?" inquired George. "This
mad race has brought on an attack of hunger with me."

"That's all right," laughed Fred. "I think the only thing you can
say is that you are less hungry some times than others. We can
stop anywhere you want."

"Then I say we stop at Poughkeepsie," said Grant.

"Poughkeepsie will do for me all right," said John soberly.

A half-hour later the graceful little motor-boat was lying
alongside a dock at Poughkeepsie. Two of the boys had remained on
board to guard their possessions while two had gone to a