It was just getting daylight when the long train rolled into the
spacious depot at the state capital. Only a few working people
and newsboys were stirring. Tom and Sam pulled themselves
together with long yawns.

"Sleeping in a seat doesn't come up to a bed, by any means,"
remarked Tom. "Which way now?"

"We'll go down to the river and look for the Flyaway," answered
his elder brother.

"It will be like looking for a needle in a hay-stack," said Sam.
"The boats are pretty thick here."

"That is true, but it is the best we can do," replied the elder
Rover.

Once along the river front they began a careful inquiry
concerning the boat of which they were in search.

"Not much progress," remarked Tom, after two hours had been spent
in vain. "This climbing from one dock to the next is decidedly
tiring."

"And I'm hungry," put in Sam. "I move we hunt up a restaurant."
An eating place was not far away, and, entering, they ordered a
morning meal of ham and eggs, rolls, and hot coffee.

While they were eating a man came in and sat down close by them.
It was Martin Harris, the fellow who had come to their assistance