Then he would sit up and listen, but he could hear nothing. It
seemed as if morning would never come, but at length the stars began
to fade, and the sky seemed overcast with a filmy, white veil. Tom
sat up, rubbed his smarting eyes, and stretched his cramped limbs.
"Oh, for a hot cup of coffee!" he exclaimed. "But not for mine,
until I land these chaps where they belong. Now the question is, how
can I get help to capture them?"
His hunger was forgotten in this. He stepped from the boat to a
secluded spot on the shore. The craft, he noted, was well hidden.
"I've got to go back to where I left my motor-cycle, jump on that,
and ride for aid," he reasoned. "Maybe I can get the charcoal-burner
to go for me, while I come back and stand guard. I guess that would
be the best plan. I certainly ought to be on hand, for there is no
telling when these fellows will skip out with the model, if they
haven't gone already. I hate to leave, yet I've got to. It's the
only way. I wish I'd done as dad suggested, and brought help. But
it's too late for that. Well, I'm off."
Tom took a last look at the motor-boat, which was a fine one. He
wished it was his. Then he struck through the woods. He had his
bearings now, and was soon at the place where he had left his
machine.
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