Down the River
It was not until the motorboat was well under way that Nancy Drew received the slightest attention from her captors. Powerless to help herself, she lay where she had fallen in the bottom of the boat.
The shawl, which in a measure had protected her from the storm, had slipped from her head and shoulders, and she was subjected to severe discomfort from the pelting rain. Though Mary, who was well protected by a slicker, stood only a few feet away, she did not make a move to help Nancy. Rather, she seemed to take pleasure in seeing the girl uncomfortable.
Through a blinding wall of rain the motorboat rushed downstream. Tom Tozzle stood grimly at the wheel, his head thrown back in a defiant attitude. The swirling, rushing water beat against the sides of the little craft, occasionally sweeping over the gunwhale.
Though the current was incredibly swift, the riverman applied more power with reckless abandonment. The boat fairly shot through the water.
“Aren’t we going pretty fast?” Bud ventured doubtfully.
Tom laughed derisively.
“I know this old river like a book.”
“But we might run into something.”
Tom Tozzle made no response, but neither did he reduce the speed of the boat. For obvious reasons, the conspirators were cruising without lights