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Updated: May 9, 2025
As with a shout of joy it stormed the ascent, so that it seemed to fly out into the air at the top, before it was engulfed by the next hollow. And mockingly, already at an incredible distance, the "too-oot, too-oot" would come back to him, its bawling tones seeming to ooze away. The low curs! Their love for this road was like that of the sportsman for the shy pigeons: love to shoot them.
Too-oot! toot! toot! sounded sharply, hoarsely, from the deep throat of the "Chelsea's" whistle. "Good enough," muttered Lieutenant Danvers. "They've ordered the Rhinds scooter to slow clown and fall into line behind the gunboat." "I'm sorry," muttered Hal. "Why?" asked the naval lieutenant. "I wish they had let old Rhinds go ahead and get all his machinery red-hot at the outset."
But just when a short dream had helped him to forget the bitter change in his life, another of those monsters would roar behind him its spiteful, deep "too-oot, too-oot." Then it behooved him to jump down in a hurry, pull the nags to one side, and speak to the excited creatures words of calm, of love and kindness, while his old heart rose into his throat with fright and hate.
"The canoe is done for!" he gasped. Too-oot! too-oot! too-oot! The steam launch was now speeding to the scene, its whistle screeching at a rate calculated to inform everyone in Gridley of another river disaster. Up came Greg, then Dave. Tom Reade's head appeared down stream. Harry Hazelton bobbed up not six feet from Dick. Hazelton blew out a mouthful of water, then called: "Everyone up, Dick?"
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