brothers and sisters, two uncles, several aunts, not to mention
the various fathers and mothers united in a final word of
farewell. Handkerchiefs were waved and the sounds of the last
faint call came across the intervening waters.

The Black Growler was leaving Yonkers to be gone more than a
month. The trip was one to which the Go Ahead boys had looked
forward with steadily increasing interest.

In the first place the boat belonged to Fred Button, one of the
quartet. Fred now was at the wheel and the expression of pride on
his face as he occasionally glanced behind him at his companions
was one that indicated something of the feeling in his heart. And
indeed there was a substantial basis for Fred's pride. Among the
many boats on the river the Black Growler moved as if she
belonged in a class of her own. People on board the cat boats or
yachts, and even the passengers on a great passing steamer, all
stood looking with manifest interest at the dark-colored little
boat which was speeding over the waters almost like a thing
alive.

Fred Button, the owner and present pilot of the swift motor-boat
was the smallest, or at least the shortest, of the four boys. His
age was the same as that of his companions, all of whom were
about seventeen. His round body and rounder face were evidences
that in time what Fred lacked in length he might provide in
breadth. Among his companions he was a great favorite and
frequently was called by one of the several nicknames which his
comrades had bestowed upon him. Peewee or Pygmy, the latter
sometimes shortened to Pyg, were names to which he answered