Despondently
Dean clambered off the motorcycle and crossed to read a placard on the
ferryhouse.
"There's not another boat for half an hour," he said when he returned.
"They have gained that much on us."
"Perhaps we can pick up their trail on the other side of the river,"
suggested Jane. "There are not nearly so many cars passing as there
would be in the city."
"We can only try," said Dean gloomily.
"At least we know where to pick up their trail the next time."
"Damn them," cried Dean, "I believe they suspect that they may be
followed and time their arrival here so as to be the last aboard the
ferryboat. That shuts off pursuit effectually. They make this trip every
week. I wouldn't be surprised if they have not fixed it with the ferry
people to pull out as soon as they arrive. A two-dollar bill might do
the trick. I'd give five thousand right now if we were on the other side
of the river. It's the first time--the only time I've ever failed
the Chief."
"Never mind," said Jane consolingly, "why can't we be waiting for them
at the other side next week when they come up here? They're not apt to
suspect motorcyclists they meet up here with having followed them."
"Perhaps next week will be too late."
"I wonder where they are headed for," said the girl, looking across at
the rapidly receding boat.
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