"Really, Griggs," he remarked, smoothing down his ruffled feathers, "you
mustn't interfere with me like that again. We might have hit something
that time."

"We did come near uprooting that cliff," I admitted.

Hawkins thereupon ignored me for a period of three minutes. Then his
temper returned and he began a discourse on the virtues of his motor.

It was long and involved and utterly unintelligible, I think, to any one
save Hawkins. It lasted until we had passed the Battery and were in the
shadow of Governor's Island.

Then it seemed time for me to remark:

"We're going to turn back pretty soon, aren't we, Hawkins?"

"Turn back? What for?"

"Well, if we're going up the Hudson, we can't run much farther in this
direction."

"Hang the Hudson!" smiled the inventor. "We'll go down around Sandy
Hook, eat our lunch, and be back in the city at two, sharp. Why, Griggs,
this is no scow. What speed do you suppose this motor can develop?"

"I give it up."

"One hundred knots an hour!"