Herb seemed to be whittling something out of a piece of nice wood he had found; while Jimmy, always good-natured, and willing to be the "handy boy" of the bunch, gathered wood for the cook.

They heard George shoot a number of times, and new hope began to take hold of Nick, who, moving closer to Josh, commenced quizzing him on how shore birds ought to be cooked, in order to bring out their particular flavor. Nick was never happier than when engaged in his favorite conversation concerning appetizing things to eat. Indeed, there was only one thing he liked better; and this was to indulge in the actual demonstration itself, and devour the finished product of the cook's skill.

Suddenly Jimmy gave a yell. The others started up, thinking that perhaps Jack had made an unusually fine haul, or been pulled in himself by a large fish. George was just breaking through the scrub near by, and he echoed the shout of Jimmy.

"Look at the Wireless, would you, fellows? Say! she's bewitched, that's what!" was what he whooped, as he started to run toward them.

And as they turned their eyes in the direction of the erratic speed boat, what was their amazement to see the little craft moving away at a fast pace, although the engine was quite dead and cold, and not the first sign of a human being could be detected aboard.

It was a mystery that sent a cold chill through every heart!



CHAPTER XVII.

GOOD-BYE TO AN ANCHOR.

"Who's playing this trick on me?" demanded George, as he reached the others.

"Look around and you'll see we're all here, with Jack running like mad this way," observed Herb, indignantly.

"But what in the Sam Hill ails the bally old boat, then?" exclaimed George, as he turned his eyes again on the fast receding Wireless, that was heading out from the shore.

"It's some trick of a native cracker; he's swimming under water, and pulling the boat after him. We've got to get in the other boats and give chase," declared shrewd Josh.

"It's mighty queer, that's all!" gasped Nick; while Jimmy stood as if turned into stone, his eyes round with fear and superstition, for Jimmy had inherited the regular Irish belief in banshees and ghosts.

George made a dash for the nearest boat, which happened to be the Tramp.

"Wait for me!" shouted the owner of that craft, who was putting on a spurt in order to reach them quickly, having forgotten all about his finny prizes in this new and overwhelming discovery.

He came up on the run, but already Herb was in the Comfort, about to start the engine.

"No need, Herb," gasped Jack, "George and myself can overtake it with the Tramp. The rest of you stay here."

"But glory be, what ails the ould thing?" demanded Jimmy, determined not to let the commodore get away without some explanation of the puzzle.

"Why, don't you understand?" said Jack, as he busied himself with the motor. "A big fish, perhaps a wandering shark, has fouled the anchor rope, and getting badly rattled, has put off at full speed, dragging the boat after him. He's headed for the nearest inlet at this very minute; but we'll beat him at that little game, won't we, George?"

Then the rattle of the motor sounded, and immediately the Tramp set off in the wake of the runaway motor boat.

A more surprised lot of boys it would have been difficult to find than those thus left upon the little sandy beach on Cedar Island. They stared after the two boats, and then turned to look at each other.

"Well, did you ever?" gasped Nick.

"Beats Bannigher, so it does," declared Jimmy, though it could be seen that a humorous expression had taken the place of that look of fear on his freckled face.

"A shark got mussed up in the anchor rope, and then set out to steal the whole outfit!" remarked Herb. "Well, of all the funny things, don't that take the cake, though?"

"That silly old boat of George's seems to me is always cutting up some sort of capers. She's the toughest proposition ever," Josh declared.

"That's what I'm saying all the blessed time," grunted Nick, unconsciously beginning to feel of his various joints, as though the mere mention of the Wireless made him remember his aches.

"But can they overtake the measly thing?" Josh asked, watching nervously to see if he could determine how the race was progressing.

"Just because the Wireless is the faster boat, don't think Jack isn't going to run her down, hand over fist," declared Herb. "Already he's gaining on the other. You see, the shark isn't used to towing a boat like that at race-horse speed. And then the anchor bothers him some, I bet you."

"Will George shoot the monster—for I take it a shark must be of pretty good size to run away with a motor boat like that?" Josh inquired.

"Watch and see what happens. George has his gun in his hands, and seems to be looking over, as if he'd just like to shoot; but pshaw! the shark will stick to the bottom right along, and he can't be touched."

It was evident to them all that unless some other line of action was brought into play the pursuers would have a pretty hard time of it outwitting the thief that refused to show himself near the surface.

But they knew Jack would be equal to any occasion, and it was with more or less curiosity rather than alarm that those ashore stood there, watching, and waiting to see the close of the exciting little drama.

"There, George has put down his gun; and I reckon Jack told him it was no good trying to cop the old pirate that way. Now what's he doing, fellows?" Nick remarked.

"I saw the sunlight shine on something he's got in his hand," declared Herb.

"That's roight," Jimmy observed, with conviction. "And it's a knife he is howldin', so it is."

"Oh! my goodness gracious! I hope that foolish and rash George isn't thinking of going overboard, and engaging the man-eater in a fight, just like I've read those pearl divers do!" Nick gasped.

"Rats! what d'ye think George is made of to play such a foolish game?" Jimmy cried. "It's to cut the anchor rope the laddy buck means to thry!"

"That's right, Jimmy; and you can be sure it was Jack put him wise to that," Herb broke in with.

"But," Nick went on, still half dazed, "he'll never see his blessed old anchor any more, will he? The blooming old shark will run off with it."

"Let him," laughed Josh, in derision. "Better to lose a measly anchor than have the boat go to smash. Looky, fellows, he's going to do it right now!"

Every one of them stared as hard as he could. The two boats had not gone so far off but what a pair of good eyes could observe what was taking place, even though night was coming on apace, with some clouds gathering overhead.

Jack had run the Tramp alongside the erratic runaway, and George was seen to clamber aboard his own boat. Of course, after that it would be a simple job to press the keen edge of Jack's knife upon the strained anchor rope.

"He did it!" shouted Jimmy, as the Wireless was noticed to fall suddenly behind the other craft, as though relieved from the unseen force that had been towing her away at such a headlong pace.

And presently the speed boat was seen to move of her own accord, George having turned his engine, and thrown on power.

They came back side by side, the skippers laughing heartily at the harmless end of what had at one time threatened to prove a calamity.

"No harm done except that I must buy a new cable and anchor at Beaufort," said George, as he once more drew up by the side of the Comfort.

"I've got a spare rope I can lend you till then," spoke up Herb, who liked to fish up all manner of contraptions from the depths of the roomy craft, and see the surprise written on the faces of his chums.

So, after all, the excitement died out, though they would never forget their amazement at seeing the boat rushing off without any visible reason for its flight.

Jack went back and secured the finny prizes that he had taken, upon which Josh set Jimmy to work, as the Irish boy was a master hand at cleaning fish. George, it turned out, had knocked down a whole covey of small birds, and several of them got busy plucking the feathers from these.

Nick was willing to do what he could, but truth to tell, he proved so clumsy at the task that it took him the whole time to get just one little bird ready, while Jack and Herb did six apiece.

Of course, they feasted that night, and considerable of the talk around the camp-fire concerned the late adventure.

"It might have been much more serious," George declared.

"That's a fact," added Josh, wagging his long head, solemnly, as was his custom. "Suppose now that same thing had happened in the middle of the night? Whew! we never would have known what had become of the blessed old Wireless. Jimmy here would have said the ghosts had carried her off."

"Even if that shark had had a better start he might have given us a long chase before we caught him. And you fellows saw how quick it got dark tonight, with the clouds hanging over us," George continued.

"What would you have done in that case, Jack?" asked Nick.

"Do you mean if we found ourselves far out on the dark sound?" laughed the one addressed. "Why, I reckon we could have heard you shout; and if that failed there was the fire. Oh, I don't doubt we'd have found some way to get back here, all in good time!"

By ten o'clock the sky had cleared again, so that they concluded to keep to the original plan, which included a night ashore. George was seen to pay particular attention about fastening his boat to the others with an extra cable.

"He's meaning to make things secure," chuckled Josh.

"Yes, one experience is quite enough for George, sometimes," commented Herb. "If another shark gets the fever, and tries to run away with an anchor, he's just got to take the entire bunch."

"Yes, and the whole island in the bargain, because they've fastened the boats to that tree, you notice," Josh observed.

Their hopes of a good, quiet night suffered no blight, for nothing happened to disturb their sleep, and morning found them eager to go on.

They fully expected reaching Beaufort before long now, when the mysterious little packet could be delivered to the party to whom it was addressed, if they were fortunate enough to find him. Young Spence did not seem to be sure that this Van Arsdale Spence still lived near Beaufort, as he evidently once had done; but still Jack had hopes of succeeding, since they seemed to carry such luck along with them.

It was eight o'clock when they got started. As usual, George detained them, finding occasion to do some more little necessary tinkering with that miserable engine of his, that was forever getting out of order.

Cove Sound lay shimmering in the sunlight as the three little boats left the friendly beach of Cedar Island, and once more cut a passage through the water, with their prows turned southward.

It was a beautiful morning.

"I only hope," Jack had said at starting, "that it is a good omen, and that we will be able to get on the track of the party without too much delay."

And so they started on the last leg that was to take them to Beaufort.



CHAPTER XVIII.

A SIGNAL OF DISTRESS.

They made such fair speed that, as noon came along, they realized they could reach the little city on the sound. Once or twice Jack had been tempted to turn in to the shore, especially when he saw what looked to be a very pretty plantation, with the house having a red roof, and nestling in among many trees, for the idea had occurred to him that he might just happen on some valuable information concerning the party whom they sought.

But it ended in his determining that on the whole he had better curb his impatience until reaching Beaufort. At the postoffice he might get in touch with some one who knew.

When they pulled in they had eaten a little bite of cold stuff, as it was not their intention to stop to cook anything.

Jack himself set off for the postoffice, to secure what mail awaited them, and at the same time make certain inquiries.

"Can you tell me anything about a certain party named Van Arsdale Spence?" he asked the postmaster, after receiving several letters.

The other looked at him closely.

"He used to live near here," he said, finally.

"Yes, we understood that, and I want to find him very much," Jack went on.

"You passed his old home as you came here, and perhaps you noticed the house in among the trees, the one with the red-tiled roof?"

"Why, of course we did!" Jack exclaimed, "and I was tempted to put in there, to make inquiries, but changed my mind. Then we must turn back, and go there?"

The postmaster shook his head.

"Wouldn't do any good, young man. Mr. Spence no longer lives there," he said.

"Do you happen to know where he could be found, sir? I have a very important message to deliver to him, which I promised to hand over while we were passing along this section of the coast."

To the surprise of Jack the official looked grave.

"The rules of the department are very strict, sir, and prevent me from telling you where Mr. Spence gets his mail now." Then seeing Jack's look of bitter disappointment, and partly relenting, he continued: "But there's a party over yonder who knows just as well as I do, and is under no restrictions either. A drink, or a quarter, would do the business with Pete Smalling."

"Thank you; I'll make the try anyway," and Jack hurried across to where he saw a rather disreputable citizen standing leaning against a fence, chewing a straw.

"Excuse me, are you Pete Smalling?" he asked, as he came up.

The cracker looked him over, and then grinned. Evidently he recognized that the other was a stranger in the community. Perhaps, too, he scented two bits, and later on a happy time in his favorite tavern taproom.

"Them's my name, Mistah; what kin I do foh yuh?" he remarked, with the true Southern accent.

"I want to see a certain party named Van Arsdale Spence, and the postmaster told me you would know and could direct me."

Jack managed in some way to slip a piece of silver into the hand of the other. It had the result of making him talkative.

"He was right, stranger, I does happen tuh know thet same, an' kin take yuh tuh whah Mistah Spence is aholin' out right now. Yuh see, it's tuh the south o' hyah, quite a peart ways, p'raps half hour er more."

"Could you tell us exactly where?" demanded the boy.

"Wall, now, I reckon I knows, but she's thet hard tuh tell. Gut a boat, Mistah, aint yuh?" Pete went on.

"Yes, we've got three power boats with us. Could you pilot us to where Mr. Spence is to be found?" Jack went on, beginning to understand how profitable it was to know a thing, and yet be quite unable to describe its location.

"Cud I? Wall, nothin' is surer than thet same, suh; allers pervided yuh made it wuth my time. I'm ginerally a busy man, yuh see, suh."

Jack thought he must be, as long as he had a dime in his pocket with which to pay for the stuff he guzzled; but then that was no affair of his right then; what he wanted was to find Spence.

"Would a dollar pay you for showing us?" Jack asked, with an air of business that no doubt impressed the loafer.

"Jest consider me engaged, Mistah. Take me tuh yer boat; on'y its gut tuh be understood that I'm tuh be fetched back heah again. If Spence cain't bring me, yuh promise tuh do hit, do yuh?"

"Yes, I guess I'm safe in making that promise. Then come along with me down to the water front. The sooner we start the better."

Jack went on, believing in the old maxim that causes one to strike while the iron is hot.

"But I hain't had any dinner," said the fellow, with a cunning leer.

"Oh! we'll see that you get plenty to eat on the way. No use waiting here. Our time is limited, and we want to be going. Will you come along?" Jack said.

"Thet's all right, Mistah; yuh kin count on me, suh. A whole dollah yuh sed, didn't yuh, suh; and make out tuh git me back in Beaufort agin?"

"Yes, a dollar and a return ticket. Come along."

On the way Jack made several purchases that caused the hungry Pete to lick his chops, and hope he would be able to soon meet up with that promised lunch, for he was getting more and more hungry now with every passing minute. That twenty-five cents in his pocket felt like it weighed a ton, too, and he wondered if the young fellow, who he saw was a Northerner or a Yankee, as all such are called below Mason and Dixon's line, would wait for him while he exchanged it in a saloon.

But Jack hurried along, so that they arrived at the place where the three boats had been tied up before Pete could quite make up his mind what he ought to do.

Jack determined that he had not returned any too soon. A little crowd of rowdies had gathered near, and were beginning to make remarks about the boats and those aboard. Beaufort was no different from any other place, north or south; there are always some rough characters to be found, and when the town lies on the water it is generally the case that they frequent the landings.

George was sitting on deck, apparently shining up his gun. Jack knew, however, that this was all pretense, and that his chum wanted to let it be known that those in the motor boat flotilla were well armed, and, moreover, knew how to take care of themselves.

Pete was taken aboard the Tramp, because Jack wanted to talk with him while on the way. Then the start was made. Just as Jack had anticipated, some of the fellows on the shore called insultingly after them.

"Don't pay any attention to them," he cautioned his mates.

It was hard to stand being abused without having done the least thing to deserve such treatment, but all the boys knew the wisdom of controlling their tempers under provocation.

Then, finding that no attention was paid to their remarks, the fellows started to hurling stones after the boats. Fortunately, when they thought of this means for making a display of their rowdyism, the small craft had gained such headway that they could not reach them with the missiles. Several splashed water aboard and came near striking home, but Jack breathed easy when he realized that they had passed beyond range of the missiles.

"That's a fine bunch of scoundrels," he said, partly to Jimmy.

"They don't mean any harm, Mistah; that's on'y th' way they hes o' havin' fun," Pete remarked, at which Jimmy laughed scornfully.

"Fun, is it?" he said, with a gleam of anger in his blue eyes; "sure it's little the big trotters 'd care if one of thim stones would be after hittin' us on the head and knocking the daylight out of us. Fun, do ye say? It'd give me great pleasure, so it would, to have a chanct to teach some of thim manners. An' I could do it, too, d'ye mind, for all I'm but a broth of a bhoy."

Jack began to ask a few questions of the fellow, whom Jimmy had soon supplied with an abundance of food.

"It's on'y a few miles tuh whar Mistah Spence holds out now, suh, an' we kin git thar right peart in this fine little boat," the other was saying, when Jimmy broke into the conversation by exclaiming:

"Looky yonder, Jack, darlint; d'ye twig the two gossoons wagging a handkerchief at us? Holy smoke! I belave they've got a motor boat half under water, and do be havin' an accident of some sort. How now, Commodore, do we be after puttin' in to the rescue?"

"You're right, Jimmy," remarked Jack, "they have got a boat of some kind partly filled. Perhaps they went too near the shore and got snagged on a stump or a rock. But we just can't pass them by and pretend we don't see them. Listen, one is yelling."

"Help! we're wrecked! Come ashore and take us off!" came the call.

"Hang the luck!" remarked George, "what else is going to detain us? Seems to me we've just done nothing but hold out a helping hand ever since we started on this blooming trip."

"But you know the rules of the road, and the law of the cruiser—'do as you'd be done by,'" said Jack, who had changed his course and was heading straight for the shore, where the two men stood up to their knees in water beside their partly submerged motor boat.

"We hit something, and punched a hole in the boat," one of them explained, as Jack and his chums came up.

"And if you'd only give us a lift a few miles we'd be very grateful, and would gladly pay for what it was worth," the other, who looked like a lawyer, hastened to say.

"That's all right, gentlemen," Jack remarked, hospitably. "Climb aboard the big boat. We're only going a short distance, however, to a little place where Van Arsdale Spence is now living."

The two pilgrims who had been wrecked looked at each other in surprise.

"Why," said the shorter one, who seemed to be a man of some authority, perhaps a marshal, or even a sheriff of the county, "that's queer, but we're bound for that same place ourselves, strangers!"



CHAPTER XIX.

THE MESSAGE OF HOPE.

"Do you mean that you were on your way to see Mr. Spence at the time your boat struck a snag?" asked Jack, surprised and perplexed at the same time.

"That's just what we were, my boy," replied the other, looking curiously at Jack, as though naturally wondering what sort of mission could be taking this flotilla of Northern motor boats to visit the party in question.

Jack would have liked to ask questions, but realized that such a course would be bordering on the impudent. There might be numerous people interested in Van Arsdale Spence besides the young aviator whom they had agreed to assist by carrying the packet to the coast town.

"In that case you have only to remain aboard here, and we will land you. I have a pilot with me, to lead us right," he remarked.

"So I see, old Pete Smalling, eh? Hello! Pete, struck a job at last, after looking for ten years?" remarked the man, winking at the hungry passenger, who was disposing of his food at a prodigious rate of speed.

"I reckon as I hev, Mistah Marshal," answered the other, with considerable of respect in his voice and manner.

So Jack knew his surmise was correct, and that the heavy-set individual was an officer of the law, after all. But what he could be going to see Spence for, was of course beyond his power to guess. The planter who had owned that fine place now seemed to be living in what might be called seclusion. Had he done anything for which he could be taken to task by the law? Jack hoped not, for the sake of that fine young aviator, Malcolm Spence, who must surely be some relative, and was deeply interested in his welfare.

The boats moved on in company, so that it was possible to converse back and forth if any of them so desired.

"I suppose this Mr. Spence must have lived around here quite some time?" Jack remarked a little later, as the man smiled encouragingly toward him.

"All his life, suh, all his life. He was born on that spot north of Beaufort; yes, and his father before him, I reckon. It never has gone out of the hands of the Spences up to now," came the ready reply.

"Oh! by the way, did this gentleman ever have any family?" asked Jack.

"I should reckon he did that, suh—three fine gals, an' just one son. The gals they stick by him through it all; but the boy, he left the old man goin' on two yeahs now. It's nigh about broke his heart, I heah."

"I don't suppose that this son's name could have been Malcolm?" suggested Jack, pretty sure of his ground now.

"That's just what it was, suh, Malcolm Gregory Spence. They was a time when we all 'spected he was going to make something out of himself, because you see the boy was mighty clever; but he quarreled with his old man and went off. P'raps he's dead by now. The old man thinks so, leastways; though one of the gals don't seem to believe that way."

Jack could see it all. In some way, Malcolm, estranged from his family, had managed to learn about their recent financial troubles, and that they had left the old home, to go, he knew not where.

And Jack, as he pressed his hand over the pocket where he had again secreted that mysterious missive, only hoped that it would bring joy and happiness into the home of the Spences. How pleasant it would seem to be the bearer of good news.

He said nothing more, though having discovered this much he could easily guess that the errand of the marshal must have some connection with the breaking of the last tie that would hold the Spence family to the old home up the Sound. Perhaps the marshal and the lawyer were on their way to inform the owner that foreclosure proceedings had been instituted, and to get his signature to documents that were necessary to the proper carrying out of the sad business.

Pete, having stowed away an incredible amount of stuff, so that he could hardly draw a full breath, began to manifest more or less interest in their progress. He suggested little changes in the course they were taking, and presently broke out with:

"Thar, if so be yuh jest look yondah, suh, p'raps ye kin see a boat tied up tuh a stake. Thet's whar old Van Arsdale lives now, a fishin' shack on a patch o' ground he happens tuh own. But I done heard as how them slick gals o' his'n gone an' made even sech a tough place look kinder homelike. An' see, thar's the ole man right now, alookin' toward us, wonderin' who we be."

Jack could easily see all that the other described. It was a lonely place for a man to bring his three sweet daughters; but doubtless necessity compelled such a thing.

The man with the white mustache and goatee, who looked like a real Kentucky colonel, Jack thought, walked down to the rude little dock to meet them. Of course, he recognized the marshal, who must have been an old acquaintance of his; and had little difficulty in guessing the errand that was probably bringing him there.

Then three young girls came running down to gather about the old man, as if suspecting the coming of new trouble they wished to be near to help him bear his cross.

Jack found himself quivering with eagerness. And again did he hope that the message from the absent son and brother might soften the blow that seemed about to fall upon this devoted little family.

They reached the landing and hastened to get ashore; all but Pete, who had developed a second-stage appetite, and started in eating again, regardless of all other matters.

The old planter stood there like a lion at bay, with his three daughters clinging to him. It was a pretty picture, that would often come up in the memory of the boys when far away from the scene itself.

He seemed to be paying particular attention to the marshal, who stepped forward and gravely shook hands with him.

"I had your letter, Mr. Burrows, and looked to see you some time today," was the way Mr. Spence opened the conversation.

"And as I wrote you, Spence," the marshal replied, "I'm only here in my official capacity to carry out the execution of the law's demands. As your friend, suh, I deeply sympathize with you in your troubles, but being sworn to do my duty, however painful it may be, there was no choice left to me."

"I understand all that, Burrows. This is only a mere matter of routine, anyway. The blow fell months ago, when I had to leave my old home. I thought I might save it in some way by keeping myself secreted, in the hope that several friends in another part of the country would come to my assistance. But that hope no longer exists, sir, and I am now ready to do whatever is required."

"There is no hurry, Spence," the marshal went on, curiosity concerning the mission of the motor boat boys getting the better of him, "and as these gentlemen happened to rescue us from a very serious position, since our boat was wrecked, and they were even then on the way to visit you, perhaps you would like to talk with them, suh."

It seemed as though Mr. Spence noticed the presence of the boys for the first time then. He looked at them with a puzzled brow, as though unable to guess what such a party of pleasure seekers could want with a broken-hearted Southern planter.

So Jack at once stepped forward, while his mates gathered in a clump, eagerly observing every little thing that transpired.

"While we were coming down the Delaware River, sir, starting on our long coast cruise, we happened to come in contact with a young aviator, who had alighted on the water close by us in a new hydro-aeroplane. When he mentioned his name we recognized it as belonging to a daring aviator who had suddenly jumped into national fame as one of the most skillful of his class. He heard of our plans, and that in all probability we would pass close to Beaufort. And he asked us to bear a packet to a Mr. Van Arsdale Spence, whose present place of residence he did not seem to know, but believed we would be able to learn it after we arrived here. So I am pleased, sir, to hand you the sealed message that was given to us by your son, now famous in the world of aviation, Mr. Malcolm Spence!"

The old planter started, and turned pale as his trembling hand was outstretched to take the packet. Indeed, he was utterly unable to open it, so that one of his daughters proceeded to do this for him.

Jack held his breath. Oh! how he did hope that it would be good news, for if ever any one had need of cheering intelligence this old, broken-down man did.

He saw him adjust his glasses and commence to read. Already had the three girls gleaned all that was contained in that missive, and from their happy faces Jack understood that it was all right.

If he had any doubt he had only to look at the face of the planter. First it was eager, then yearning, and finally he turned to the marshal with possibly the first laugh that had burst from his lips these many moons.

"Aha! you're having your journey for your pains, Burrows!" he cried. "The old place isn't going to leave the Spence family after all. Look! this is from my boy, and directs me to go to the bank in Beaufort, to which he has transmitted funds to make the first payment that will save our home! More will follow as soon as he hears from us. Money is flowing in on him, money and honors as thick as they can come. And his heart has gone out to the father and sisters he left years ago. It's all right, Burrows, thanks to these kind boys who have borne his message to me."

He went around, shaking the hand of every one with vehemence. And no one looked happier than the marshal, upon learning that stern duty after all would not compel him to take from his old friend the home of his ancestors.

"But it was a close shave, let me say," was his remark later on to Jack, as they all started to gather under the humble roof of the fisherman's shack which the devotion of those three brave daughters had almost beautified, so that the old man might not be too much broken down; "another day would have been too late."

"Then I'm glad that storms and breakdowns did not keep us from getting here on time," said the commodore of the Motor Boat Club.



CHAPTER XX.

MEETING TROUBLE HALF WAY.

Jack had been studying his coast survey charts seriously of late.

He knew that there were a few hardships before them ere they could anchor in front of Florida's metropolis on the St. John's River, fair Jacksonville.

And as it was only right that every member of the club should share in the discussion as to their course, he gave them to understand that there would be held a caucus on the very next night.

At the lower end of Bogue Sound amid the sedge grass they hoped to make their next camp, when this question would be debated from every side, and the plan of campaign adopted as majority decided.

When they were getting ready to leave the Spence family, Jack felt some one pulling at his sleeve, and looking around discovered that it was old Pete.

"How 'bout that ere dollar, boss?" asked the cracker.

"That's a fact, I came near forgetting you, Pete," laughed Jack. "And to prove that it wasn't intentional, here's double pay for you. I guess we've had enough pleasure out of this to count for two dollars."

"That's mighty nice of you-all," declared the fellow, actually showing something like gratitude in his manner, as he held out a hand for Jack to shake. "An' mout I be so bold as tuh 'mind yuh thet I don't hanker 'bout stayin' down heah any longer than I has tuh. Yuh promised tuh see I gut back tuh Beaufort, suh," he said.

"He's got you there, Jack, for that's just what you did," laughed Herb.

"I reckon that money'll burn a hole in Pete's pocket, unless he manages to get to town right smart," declared the marshal; "but Mr. Spence heah has got an old sail boat in which the hull lot of us is goin' to head foh Beaufort soon. Pete is welcome to go along, if he cares."

"That pleases us a whole lot," remarked George, "because, you see, we had a nasty little experience with some toughs along the water front, and they bombarded us with a shower of stones as we pulled out, though fortunately none of them struck either the boats or ourselves."

"Yes, and as we've got a long trip ahead of us before we reach the place we marked for the end of the motor boat cruise, the sooner we make a start the better. So we'll say good-bye to you all; and Mr. Spence, best wishes for your future happiness. Perhaps some day we may run across that famous son of yours again, because he took our home address and said he meant to get in touch with us. We'd all like to meet him again, eh, boys?" and Jack turned to his chums as he asked this.

"That's what!" declared Nick, who had been especially interested in the wonderful hydro-aeroplane, and even hinted that some day he also hoped to fly through the upper currents in one, much to the amusement of his comrades, who roared every time any one tried to picture the fat boy trying such stunts.

So they shook hands all around, not forgetting the three charming girls, who seemed very friendly disposed toward the Yankee boys, after discovering what fine news the voyagers had brought their father.

"All aboard!" cried the commodore.

As the three motor boats put out upon the sun-kissed water the girls waved dainty handkerchiefs as long as they could see the fleet. Then a change of course shut out the fishing shack, where love had made a home for the planter in his hour of adversity.

"After all, that was a most satisfying adventure, fellows," Jack remarked, for the other boats were close by at the time.

"I should say, yes," admitted Josh.

"Only thing I didn't like," declared Nick, who was looking quite unhappy, they began to notice, as though a spell of sea sickness had gripped him, "was that we had to break away just when we were getting to know 'em."

At that frank admission the rest broke into roars of laughter.

"So that's the way the tide sets, is it?" remarked Jack.

"Why, sure," cried Josh, "didn't you see how smitten Nick was with that little brunette with the snapping big black eyes? She was pretty, all right, and ten to one he's got her address, because I saw him writing something down in his note book, sure as you live."

But Nick faced them, rosy red but defiant.

"Don't care if I did," he said, with a decided shake of his head. "It's just rank jealousy on Josh's part that makes him say that; because Betty wouldn't notice him even a little bit. Now, let's talk of something else. I don't care to bring the lady's name into the discussion."

"Good for you, Nick!" said Herb.

"And he's quite right, too, boys," asserted Jack, positively, and immediately switched the talk to another subject.

They made decent progress during the hours that they kept on. In Beaufort they had managed to renew their supply of gasolene, so that they now had sufficient of the fuel to see them through for some time. Once they reached Charleston it would be necessary to lay in another lot.

But there was a hard proposition before them ere they could hope to gain the beautiful city by the sea. Boats drawing the water theirs did could not hope to get through some of the small creeks uniting the broad stretches of water lying parallel with the coast. Hence it would be necessary for them to make another outside passage, possibly several.

But Jack had it all planned, and wished to get the opinions of his chums before the course was definitely decided on.

Camp was made in the sedge grass on Bogue Sound, just as they had figured on, and after supper had been disposed of, a council of war called. At this the charts were closely scanned, especially the pencil marks which Jack had made. He also explained minutely just what he conceived to be the best method of procedure.

"Now, if we were making this cruise in canoes instead of heavy power boats," he remarked, laying his pencil on a particular section of the chart, "our best plan would be to have the craft carried by ox wagon across a little stretch of low rice country here, to the Waccamaw River, which has a very swift current; and down that we could run some seventy miles, bringing us far on our way. But as we'd never be able to find a way to take our boats across country, we must go outside again."

There being no other way, the boys presently unanimously agreed to face the music. Besides, their previous success at riding the heaving billows of the ocean began to give them confidence.

"If we go around Florida, and bring up in the Gulf, we're likely to do a lot of this outside business," remarked George, as bravely as though he never knew what fear meant.

"Yes," put in Nick, also valiant when settled on solid ground, "and I suppose we've just got to get used to the thing. Who's afraid, anyhow? Settle it just as you think best, Jack. We rely on your judgment every time. That's why we elected you to be commodore of the fleet."

"Hear! hear!" murmured Josh, pretending to applaud the noble sentiment feebly with his finger-tips.

Once the plan of campaign was settled, they all felt better. For some time they had known that this problem must come up for solution sooner or later, and truth to tell, it had been rather a load on their minds. There is a positive relief in knowing the worst. Means for meeting the difficulty can then be discussed; and as a rule most obstacles lose much of their terror when held up to the light.

The little insect pests came around in such numbers that it was quickly decided a night ashore would not be comfortable. Nick was the only one who rebelled.

"Why, I'd put up with ten million skeeters before I'd voluntarily choose to try and compose myself to sleep in that narrow rocking coffin," he declared.

"Now, I like that," complained George, always up in arms when his beloved craft was spoken of in an uncomplimentary manner. "Look a gift horse in the mouth, if you like; but the sleeping accommodations aboard are good enough for me. And to show you that I don't bear any malice, Nick, I'm going to help you fix up a berth on shore here."

Nick might have backed out, only he dared not after that, and sly George, who really delighted in the prospect of having plenty of room to turn over in, knew it, which was the main reason for his offer of assistance.

So when the time came for retiring Nick was left ashore with a little tent constructed of cheese cloth, which was believed to be so closely woven that even the smallest insect pest could not pass through.

Nick had tried his best to coax Josh to share his accommodations; but the lanky one was content with his comfortable quarters aboard. Even Jimmy shook his head when the fat boy showed him how splendid it would be to lie there, and get all the night air that was stirring.

"Excuse me, Nick," Jimmy had said, "sure, I'd like to accommodate ye, but it seems to me there's a quare smell in the air that makes me think of bears. P'raps they do come down here out of the canebrake beyant. And I'd feel safer aboard the boat."

"Now, you think you're going to scare me, don't you?" demanded the stout boy, pugnaciously, his stubborn nature having been aroused, "but all the same you ain't. I c'n see through a knothole in a fence. The rest of you are afraid, that's what! All right, it's good there's one brave feller in the bunch. But, George, you've just got to loan me your gun again."

"More razorback pork for dinner tomorrow, fellows," laughed George.

"Oh! well, if you try to throw every obstacle in my way, why of course——" began Nick, eagerly seizing upon the slightest excuse to hedge; when George, fearful that he might have to share the cramped quarters aboard the Wireless after all with his team mate, quickly exclaimed:

"You can have the gun, and welcome, Nick; only be careful how you shoot. One of those charges at close range would go through the flimsy planking of my boat like a bullet. Here, take the gun. And if there's anything else I can do to make you comfortable, let me know. I'm the most obliging fellow you ever met."

Nick looked at him out of the corner of his eye, as though he strongly suspected the genuine character of this generosity. Still, he felt that he could not in decency draw back now, so he took the shotgun and tucked it away beside his blanket.

Considerably to the satisfaction of the entire club, the night passed without any wild alarm. If there were bears in the neighborhood, as Jimmy had wickedly suggested, they at least had the decency to keep aloof from the camp. Perhaps they showed their wisdom in so doing when Nick was on guard. That, at least, was what he boasted, when Jack and the rest came ashore and aroused him from a sound sleep.

The fact of the matter was that Nick had never once awakened during the entire night. A dozen bears might have prowled around the camp, sniffing at anything left lying around loose, and in all probability he would never have been any the wiser, provided they did not tumble his tent down about his ears.

Once more they started on their way. Jack continually consulted his charts. When connecting creeks had to be negotiated, in order to reach some channel beyond, it was absolutely necessary that the tide be taken at its flood, otherwise they were very apt to find themselves stuck in the mud.

Three full days did they keep this up, and then, having managed to surmount every difficulty, they reached the point where that outside run became a necessity, ere they could enter the Peedee River at Winyah Bay, and once more take up the inside route.

Another day was spent waiting for the conditions to become more favorable. Time was not any great factor in their cruise, but safety did enter very much into their calculations. They had passed through another stormy period and were quite satisfied to snuggle down to camp, to rest up after their arduous work of the last few days, wriggling their way through those tortuous creeks, and working the setting pole at times for hours, when the saving of the precious gasolene became an object.

"How's this for the right morning?" asked George, who was anxious to have the long and hazardous outside run over with.

"Looks good to me, so far," said Jack, "and I guess we'll get off right after we've had breakfast. We might wait longer and fare worse, you know, George."

"Oh! I'm ready for the run. It can't come any too soon to suit me," declared the skipper of the Wireless, "and I honestly believe I've got my engine in better shape than ever before."

"Thank goodness for that!" said Nick, who did not look any too happy.

And at seven o'clock, while the sun was hanging low in the east, they started off, with the longest outside run of the cruise confronting them; and all sorts of possibilities for trouble looming up on the horizon.



CHAPTER XXI.

FOG BOUND WHILE AT SEA.

"How much further do we have to go, Jack?"

It was Herb calling out after this style. The three boats were close together, and steadily making progress over the heaving surface of the ocean. Off to the right lay the shore, plainly seen, though they did not dare approach too close, lest they get into that sickening ground swell, that rolled the narrow Wireless in a way to make those aboard dizzy.

"As near as I can judge we ought to see the mouth of Winyah Bay inside of the next half hour. It's different from an inlet, you understand, and wide enough to fool us, unless we take great care," replied the commodore, who had his marine glasses leveled at the shore about half the time, trying to pick up landmarks calculated to tell him where they were.

"Wow! that would be a tough proposition, now!" shouted Josh. "What if we did go past, why we'd just have to keep right along this way till we made Charleston."

"Don't you think of trying it," called Nick, from the Wireless, which was being held in leash by the now cautious skipper. "Why, this racking fever of anxiety would just kill us if it had to keep up much longer, and that's right, fellows, even if George here won't acknowledge the corn."

"Oh! shucks! it isn't half as bad as you make out, Nick. The trouble is, you're so plagued logy you can't keep the balance of the boat. These thoroughbreds are delicately constructed, you see, and have to be treated different from other boats."

"I should just guess, yes," complained poor Nick, in a dolorous tone. "A feller has to be thinking of the blessed old boat all the while, and forget his own aches and pains. Why, every muscle in my whole body is sore from the strain."

"I say, Jack, would ye moind turnin' the glass back yander and tellin' us what sort of thing that cloud is that hugs the wather so close? I've been watching the same some time now, and I do think it's comin' this way," Jimmy remarked, loud enough for the others to hear, so that immediately every eye was quickly turned in the quarter toward which the Irish lad had pointed.

Jack immediately felt a sudden thrill of alarm pass over him, even before he had focussed the glasses upon Jimmy's so-called "cloud." He suspected what it might prove to be, and the very thought of being caught out on the ocean by a fog gave him a decidedly unpleasant sensation.

"Say, that ain't a cloud, I bet you," declared Nick.

"Looks more like fog to me," Josh called out, "and as sure as you live, boys, it's creeping down this way and widening out like fun. Hey! Jack, ain't that fog?"

"It sure is," replied the one who held the glasses, as he lowered them and cast an anxious look in the direction of the shore, as though he would take a last survey before the land became blotted out.

This was one of the things Jack had feared. A sudden storm of course would have brought alarm in its train; but this silent yet gripping fog might be just as potent a force toward their undoing. Once it enveloped them, they were apt to grope along for hours, possibly working more and more out to see. And when a wind dissipated the fog, perhaps they could not see land!

Jack immediately determined to risk minor dangers by turning in more toward the shore. If he could only listen for the beating of the rollers on the beach, it would be possible to tell when they came to the open bay by the sudden cessation of this sound.

"What are you changing the course for?" demanded George, suspiciously, a minute later, though he followed suit readily enough, determined not to get far away from the other more stable boats.

"We'd better get in nearer shore, so we can hear the sound of the surf," Jack replied.

"Oh! I see, you hope to keep tabs on our course by ear, when the eye fails us; is that it, Jack?" asked Herb.

"That's one reason," Jack called back. "Perhaps we may be able to tell when we're opposite the mouth of the bay, if we listen carefully. But in another five minutes that fog will be down on us, boys, by the way it creeps on, faster than we are going."

"How about signals?" asked George.

"Every boat has a horn of some sort, and you remember what the different blasts mean. The Tramp is a single toot, the Comfort two in quick succession, while your Wireless is denoted by three sharp ones, George. Four will mean that we must turn a little more to starboard, and five, draw closer together for a confab. Got all that, now?"

"All right here, Jack," assented Herb.

"And ditto with us," declared George.

"Well, be watchful and ready for anything, for here comes the wet blanket to cover us," observed Jack.

It was a nasty fog, as thick as pea soup, as George called out a little later. First the outlines of the shore were blotted out as though by an impenetrable curtain. Then even the boats, close as they were, began to go, until it was no longer possible to distinguish them from the sea of gray vapor around.

Naturally the boys felt exceedingly nervous every minute of the time. Jack had reduced speed, for he did not wish to run past the mouth of Winyah Bay, if such a thing could be prevented by due caution.

An hour crept along. It seemed like three times that length of time to every one of the listening lads. All this while they had managed to catch that low throbbing sound from the shore. Sometimes it would be very faint, and require careful work in order to locate it; then again the beat of the waves on the sandy strand came quite distinctly.

Somehow, as long as they could catch this reassuring sound, they seemed to feel renewed confidence. And yet the strain was terrible. The day was passing, and if night came on, to find them still groping their way in this incertain manner down the South Carolina coast, the prospect would seem gloomy indeed.

No one seemed to care to eat much. Even Nick, for the time being, had gone back on that wonderful appetite of his, and actually turned up his nose when George got out the bag that contained hard tack and cheese, asking the fat boy if he cared to have a "snack" to fortify him against what might yet be in store for them.

"Excuse me," said Nick, loftily. "There are times to eat, but according to my way of thinking this ain't one of 'em. When a feller has to do a lot of high thinking he'd be wise to keep his mind clear and let grub alone."

Truth to tell, Nick was feeling rather squeamish. The swell rolled the narrow boat more than had been the case when they kept further out; and besides, such were his fears that they affected his nerves, and also his stomach.

"All right," said George, who did not happen to be in the same condition, "I'm not a big feeder, but it's always wise to keep up your strength. And talking about letting grub alone, when you once get ashore again the way you'll pitch in must make our supplies look sad. I know you, Nick; you can't fool me."

Nick disdained to make any reply. He even turned his back on the skipper when George started to munch biscuit and cheese.

"What time is it?" asked George, after a while, upon seeing the fat boy look at his little nickel watch, for the tenth time at least.

"Just three o'clock!" groaned Nick, sadly replacing his timepiece and looking longingly toward the west, where he knew solid ground lay, if only they could ever set feet upon it once more.

"And we started out on the sea by eight," remarked George. "Say, that's something worth while; and when we get to talking it over we'll have reason to be proud of the way these bully little boats have served us. Eight hours on the ocean; just think of that, will you?"

The others were close enough to hear what was said, for it was quite still, as the motors were running at a reduced speed.

"Perhaps it may be eighty before we're done!" called Josh, on the right.

"I do believe we're going to bring up on the coast of Ould Ireland before we're through with this job!" Jimmy was saying, from some unseen place on the port side of the Wireless, which happened to be occupying the middle berth at the time.

At that the rest broke out into a laugh, though truth to tell there was not any too much mirth about the same.

"Say, I haven't heard anything for nearly five minutes now, Jack!" called Herb, who, it seemed, was paying strict attention to business, and not bothering about whether he got anything to eat or not, or what would happen in case they headed out into the vast expanse of salt water that stretched across to Africa.

"Same here, Herb," echoed Jack.

"Do you think we've been heading out too far, and is that the reason, Jack?"

"I've got my compass right before me and, if anything, we've been edging in just a little bit more than at any other time," came Jack's answer.

"Then what?" asked the Comfort's skipper, eagerly.

"Perhaps the bay has opened up, and the shore line is miles away from us!" was the cheering way Jack put it.

"Good for you, commodore!" called Josh.

"Oh! I hope that's so!" wailed Nick.

"But how are we going to find out?" queried Herb.

"By changing our course directly into the west, and taking the bull by the horns," Jack replied, boldly. "We can creep along, you know, and if we've made a mistake, why, it's easy to turn around and bear away again. But somehow, I've got a pretty strong notion things are going to work out all right for us, fellows."

"Hurrah! that's the kind of talk!" cried Nick, beginning to perk up a little, and wonder if after all George might not be right when he said that they owed it to themselves as a duty to eat, whether hungry or not, in order to conserve their strength for any emergency.

"Are you turning now, Jack?" asked George.

"Yes; keep close by and try to pattern after what I do. Here goes, then, fellows."

"Hit her up; who cares for expenses?" cried Josh, who had been taking it comfortably right along, and seemed almost free from care.

By exercising more or less caution, they managed to change their course without losing each other in the fog. This was accomplished by calling out from time to time, or even sounding the signals on the horns.

In this fashion then they began to creep along. Only for that compass which Jack had before him, they might as well have been heading out to sea, for all any one could say.

"Me to get a compass as soon as we strike Charleston!" declared Herb.

"Yes, and George must do the same," Jack declared, from somewhere in the opaque mist. "Supposing we were separated in some way; you two fellows would be badly off with no means for locating east from west, or north from south."

"Jack, darlint!" they heard Jimmy cry out just then.

"What is it?" asked the skipper of the Tramp.

"I do be thinkin' I saw a break in the beastly ould fog beyont us; yis, an' by the powers, it's a braze that fans me cheek at this identical minute!"

"He's right, fellows!" shouted George.

"Then that means good-bye to the nasty old fog, which will be a riddance of bad rubbish!" called the overjoyed Nick, reaching out and possessing himself of the cracker bag, so as to be ready to do his duty by his system.

"The breeze is dead ahead, boys," said Jack. "And in that event the fog will be swept to sea. Watch now, and you'll see something worth while."

Jack evidently knew what he was talking about, for in less than five minutes it seemed as though some wizard must have waved his magical wand, for suddenly they shot out of the thick pea-soup atmosphere and into the bright sunshine.

They were indeed in a big bay, with land on three sides. The sun, now half way and more down the western sky, shone in an unclouded field, and the water danced in the fresh shore breeze.

Then every fellow shouted and waved his hat, such was the relief that passed over them at the successful termination of the long outside dash.

"Don't any one of you ever dare to run my bully engine down, after it has stood by me so nobly," George was saying, as they started at a faster clip up still further into Winyah Bay, into which the Peedee River empties.

No one was disposed to cast the slightest reflection on the cranky motor of the speed boat; for just then they were feeling at peace with all the world, and quite ready to forgive their worst enemies.

That night they camped on the shore of a creek that emptied into the bay, ready to take up their southern journey with the coming of the morrow.



CHAPTER XXII.

SAVANNAH AT LAST.

After that came some more hard inside work. There were times when even the sanguine Jack began to fear that they would never reach Charleston; for even at high tide they found the connecting creeks in many instances little more than shallow ponds, and before they could break through, considerable pushing and dragging had to be done.

But where there is a will there usually appears to be a way; and by slow degrees they drew nearer the city on the coast.

"With good luck, fellows, we ought to make it tomorrow," Jack announced, one evening, after he had been closely examining his charts again by the light of the cheery camp fire.

"Do you really mean it, Jack, darlint?" demanded Jimmy, with the air of one who had almost given up hope.

"I sure do," replied the other. "As I make it out, this is Bull's Island we are on right now. If that's a fact, there's a fine inside passage all the way to Charleston Bay, behind several other islands, or at least one big one called Capers. Our troubles are over, so far as this part of the trip goes."

"That's bully good news you're giving us, Jack," remarked George; "and I hope it won't prove a delusion and a snare. I've had about as much of that push pole business as is good for my constitution, I guess."

"Yes, and look at me!" cried Nick, pulling a long face, though with only a great effort; "pretty near skin and bones, with all this worry and hard work; and to add insult to injury, put on half rations latterly. It's a shame, that's what."

"Rats!" scoffed the unbelieving George; "I'd like to wager now that you've gone and picked up ten pounds since starting on this cruise. By the way you put away the grub it ought to be nearer twenty."

"You don't mean to hurt my feelings, I know, George," said the fat boy, sweetly; "and, considering the source, I'll forgive you. But I warn you plainly, right now, that if I have to keep on being crew to your blooming old speed boat, I'm going to lay in a lot of rubber cushions at Charleston, so as to keep me from rubbing all the skin off my poor body when I have to sleep aboard here, and the boat wabbles with every teenty wave. Don't you say a word, for my mind's made up."

"Oh! get whatever you want in that line; it doesn't make a bit of difference to me. I never have needed cushions so far," George exploded, sarcastically.

"Huh! that's easy; because you've got me to bang up against!" exclaimed Nick.

"That's right, George; he's got one on you there," laughed Jack.

"And who'd want a finer cushion than our Nick?" remarked Herb.

"Nature knew what was needed, when he was padded and filled out so well," Josh managed to work in with; "and if ever I needed a bumper, I'd pick him out first thing."

"Get out!" snapped Nick; but all the same he grinned as though complimented.

On the following morning, then, they made an early start, for there was considerable of a distance to be covered ere they could reach the hospitable docks of Charleston by the sea.

Jack knew that their supply of gas was growing alarmingly low. Indeed, George had already been obliged to borrow from the Comfort, as that craft had the largest reservoir and could spare a little.

"It's going to be a close shave to get us there," he remarked, as they started.

"What if my tank goes empty again?" demanded George.

"I've been thinking of that," said Jack. "As a last resort then, we'll make camp, empty all we've got into one tank, and that boat can go after a new supply."

"That's the ticket!" cried Josh.

"It takes Jack to solve these maddening puzzles!" declared Nick, with a look of affection in the direction of the chum who never failed them.

"But still, I have hopes we'll all pull through," Jack continued, encouragingly.

"How'd it be for one of the boats to do the towing act?" suggested Herb.

"And that would mean the Comfort, because she's built more on the lines of a tow boat than either of the others," remarked George. "I enter a kick against anything of the kind. It's bad enough to be humiliated that way when a fellow's motor goes back on him; but in calm weather, and with the engine in the pink of condition, it just can't be thought of for a minute."

"Hey! what you trying to do again; throw me overboard?" demanded Nick, aggressively, as he floundered about when the Wireless came to a sudden and totally unexpected stop, just as George ceased speaking.

"His engine broke down again, that's what!" jeered Josh.

"Is that a fact, George?" asked Jack, provoked at the idea of delay.

"Oh! not quite so bad as that," replied George, peevishly; "I think I know what happened. I forgot something, that's all. Perhaps I can have it fixed in three shakes of a lamb's tail. You go on, and I'll catch up easy enough."

"Don't you dare to do it, fellows!" cried Nick. "That might mean for us to be marooned here a whole day, yes, mebbe a week. And most of the grub is aboard that old Comfort, you see."

"We'll wait a while and see how it comes out," remarked Jack. "Do you need any help, George?"

"Who, me? Not in the least. I tell you, I know what's ailing, and I'll get it to going all right in five minutes," George answered, stiffly, for the many freaks of his engine gave him unhappy spells; as Josh once declared, it was like a certain girl he knew, in that "when it was good, it was very, very good; and when it was bad, it was hor-rid!"

However, for once George proved to be a truthful prophet. By the time those five minutes were up, he had succeeded in coaxing the refractory motor to behave itself; and suddenly the Wireless shot off amid a rattling volley of explosions that told full well how her muffler was cut out.

George continued on at a pace that took him far ahead of the rest. Then they saw him draw up and wait, as though, having demonstrated the ability of his motor to do good work, caution again dictated that he keep in touch with the supply boat and the pilot craft.

That day was the easiest of the week. They had an open passage nearly all the way to the bay, the weather was all that could be asked; and the rest did seem so fine after so much hard labor with push poles.

"If this sort of thing would only keep up," Nick remarked, as they landed on a sandspit to make a fire and have a pot of hot coffee at noon, in order to cheer things up, "I'd have some hope of getting back to my former condition again."

"Well, if that means taking up any more room aboard my boat," grunted George, "I hope you won't do it. Things are getting to a pass now that I'm feeling squeezed half the time. Some day we hope you're going to have that ferryboat made to order, as you've been threatening. Say, it'll just be a jim dandy, I guess."

"It's going to combine speed with comfort," declared Nick, unblushingly. "While it'll beat Herb's tub all hollow for room, at the same time it can make rings around the poor old Wireless. Just you wait; I've got her all mapped out in my head, and some day I'll surprise the bunch."

The afternoon run took them in good time to where the sound they were following broke into Charleston Bay.

"There's the ruins of old Fort Sumter!" cried Nick, as they saw the lovely panorama spread out in front of them.

"And Port Moultrie, too! Gee! to think that we'd ever get to set eyes on the places we used to read so much about in history," said Josh, staring around.

"Well," laughed Jack, "to my mind right now, the best of it is that yonder lies Charleston, where we can lay in a new supply of gas; because I'm expecting to find any minute that my well has gone dry. It's an awful thing to have a thirsty engine and nothing to feed it. But perhaps I'll pull through by making every drop tell."

It proved to be better than that, for there was not the slightest trouble experienced in making the run up the bay to the city.

Skirting the shore, Jack kept his eyes on the alert for some shipyard, knowing that such a place would better accommodate the three power boats than any other harbor.

It happened that Jimmy's sharp eyes caught the first sign of a boat builder's establishment, and presently the three little craft that had come through such a checkered experience with credit, were secured to landings within the enclosed space of the shipyard.

Here it was determined to remain for a couple of days, as there were a number of things to be done besides replenishing their stock of fuel and food.

All of the boys wanted to see the city, about which, with its beauties, they had heard considerable.

"From here on to Jacksonville we ought to have it fairly easy," Jack explained to the rest. "There's an inside route taken by steamers to Savannah, and from that Georgia city clear to Fernandina in Florida. Then we will have to go out for just a little run; after which we enter the broad mouth of the St. Johns."

"And we'll really be in Florida then, will we?" asked Nick. "My goodness; sometimes, when we were sticking in those mud creeks, it seemed to me that Florida must be just six thousand miles away. And we're going to make it after all? Well, that's what comes of push and grit. You fellers would have laid down long ago, only for my keeping everlastingly at it. But you're improving, I admit that; and I've got hopes that in time you'll do me credit."

Of course they were quite used to Nick's method of joshing, and took all this in good part. Had it been any one else he might have been suspected of egotism; but they all knew Nick, and what an effort it was to get him to do anything requiring an effort; so that the joke was not lost.

"When you take to prodding us to do things, water is going to run up-hill," was George's way of heading him off.

"Well, fellows, there have been a few things Nick knows how to do better than the rest of the bunch, you must admit that," Jack remarked, dryly.

"'Course we do," grinned Josh. "F'r instance, he can beat any bullfrog I ever set eyes on, makin' a jump from a boat into the water."

"And sure, he can give the rist of us points on how to balance a boat by partin' his hair exactly in the meddle," Jimmy spoke up.

"And there ain't a living soul in the same class with Nick when it comes to stowing away grub. I've often sat and admired him at it, until I just groaned in despair of ever being able to copy after him. I ain't built the right way, boys, you see. My pockets won't stretch far enough."

"Oh! keep it going, if it pleases you, boys," the good natured Nick observed; "it don't hurt me any more'n water falling on a duck's back. Josh as much as admits that he's just consumed by envy because he can't enjoy his food like I do. But I'm used to being knocked around like a football. George here has rolled all over me forty times, I guess, since we've been shipmates. I'm beginning to get calloused around my elbows and knees. By the time this cruise is finished I'll be ready to hire out in a side show as the only and original human punching bag."

The stay in Charleston was covered in two days, during which they managed to get around pretty well, and see all that was worth while. Besides, they had laid in all necessary stores, and the gas supply was looked after.

On the third morning the Motor Boat Club set out along the wide Stone River, which soon narrowed, as all these southern rivers have a habit of doing, a short distance from its mouth. Then, by degrees, they passed through a tortuous channel, that, being safely navigated, took them in turn to another river, called the Wadmelaw.

Passing the lower stretches of the swift running Edisto River, they managed to make the northern shore of St. Helena Sound by the middle of the afternoon; and an hour later determined to camp there in the open, rather than enter the tortuous watercourses leading to Beaufort.

An early start on the following day gave them a chance to pass Beaufort before ten o'clock, and then head for distant Savannah.

The course was intricate; but Jack studied his chart closely; and besides, they discovered that the channel was located by means of targets which doubtless had been placed there by the steamboat company, so that with any exercise of care they had little excuse for going astray.

And as the last of Calibogue Sound was left behind they managed to reach the wide Savannah River, just as the sun was sinking in the west.



CHAPTER XXIII.

THANKS TO THE PILOT—CONCLUSION.

When the adventurous six left Savannah in their wake, and struck in for the stream below the city which would take them to Wassaw Sound, they knew that they had really started on what was destined to be the last leg of the trip to Florida.

By noon they had managed to make Ossaban Sound, and still kept on, hoping to cross the wide reach that formed St. Catherine's Sound that same day. But it was not to be. The sky clouded up, the wind whipped into the northwest, and in a short time the boys realized that it was getting very chilly for this far south, in the middle of October.

When they saw the wild aspect that wide stretch of tumbling water presented, it was quickly settled that the crossing must be put off until another day. Accordingly camp was made in a hamak, where the force of the wind was broken. And here they proceeded to take things as comfortably as possible.

George took his gun and went out to see if he could scare up any sort of game; for there had been murmurings of late to the effect that they did not seem to be getting their full share of such things on this trip.

The fact of the matter was, that so much of their precious time was spent in trying to overcome the numerous difficulties by which they found themselves confronted, that there were scant opportunities for fishing and hunting.

Nick persisted in getting a line out, as he had been seized with a great desire to partake of fresh fish for supper, and no one else showed any signs of intending to make a try.

Twenty minutes later those in camp were aroused by hearing a tremendous splash, accompanied by half muffled shouts.

"Help! come quickly, or he'll get away! Hurry! hurry, boys!"

Everybody ran like the wind to the spot where Nick had been seen calmly seated on a log that projected over the water, offering him a fine seat, from which to carry on his fishing operations.

What they discovered was the stout boy floundering in the water of the sound, being drawn this way and that by some unseen agency that was fastened to the other end of his line.

Nick's obstinate disposition was made manifest by the frantic way he clung to that same fishing line. No danger seemed sufficient to cause him to let it go. Perhaps, though, he had been unwise enough to wrap the cord around his chubby wrist, and could not have let loose, even had he so desired.

Josh doubled up, and fairly howled, the sight was so very comical to him; which made the fisherman all the more angry.

"What ails that silly goose?" he spluttered, as well as he was able, considering that half the time his mouth was filled with salty water. "He only thinks of the funny part of it. Don't care a cent whether a human life is sacrificed on the altar of friendship; or a jolly big fish breaks the line and gets away. Jack, somebody come on in, and help me land him, won't you?"

Jack was already throwing his coat off, and in another minute he had leaped from the bank into the water. Just as Nick had said, there was some danger that he might be dragged out beyond his depth; and at least the great struggling fish was liable to break away, and become lost to them.

Once Jack got hold of the line, and it was all over. By degrees they drew the captive to the shore, upon which he was finally cast, proving to be an enormous red drum, or as they are called in the South, a channel bass, weighing pretty nearly forty pounds, Jack figured.

"Is it good to eat?" was the first natural question fired at him by Nick, whose eyes were fairly glistening with pride as they watched the dying flops of the bronze-backed quarry.

"First rate, if a bit dry," Jack replied. "The meat is snow white, and something like halibut, only not quite so fine. But it's a great day for you, Nick. I can see one time when you're sure to get your fill."

Indeed, it proved to be a good day all around, for just then they heard George letting fly with both barrels, and following it with a glad whoop.

"He's gone and got something," declared Josh. "Ain't it queer how things run? With us it's feast or a famine all the while. D'ye reckon it was a deer he knocked over, Jack?"

"More'n likely another shoat," said Nick, grinning; "but even if it is, razorback pork ain't half bad when a feller's real hungry."

Presently George came in. It was getting near dusk, and they could just see that he was carrying a load of some sort on his back, which he tried to hide until he could reach camp.

Josh began to grunt at a lively rate, by which he hinted that they anticipated another diet of pork.

"What did you run up against, George?" asked Jack.

"That!" exclaimed the proud Nimrod, as he swung his burden around.

"Great governor! it's a turkey, as sure as you live!" shouted Josh.

At that Nick could hold in no longer, but began to dance around in great glee, rubbing himself as though in anticipation of the feast to come, and making all sorts of suggestive motions, after the manner of a man feeding.

"How under the sun did you get close enough to knock the big bird down with a charge of quail shot?" asked Jack, pleased because George had held up his reputation as a sportsman.

"I don't just know," replied the other. "I was standing in the shade of a tree, and thinking that it was no use going further, when something lighted close by me, and I saw it was a wild turkey. Well, I just up and gave him both barrels, as fast as I could pull the triggers. Then he flopped over, I ran forward and nailed my prize. And he's pretty heavy to tote any distance, too, I tell you."

"That means another of those earth ovens tonight, don't it, Jack?" asked Nick.

"Nothing else would do the business," came the reply; "and so everybody get busy, piling up the wood while I dig a hole," replied the one addressed.

The turkey was baked to a turn when they uncovered the oven in the morning, and, having their appetites along, even so early in the day, those six lads made that noble bird look like a rack of bones before they admitted that they were satisfied. Indeed, they had to fairly drag Nick away from the wreck, for he declared it to be the finest treat of his whole life.

But then, he often said that. What was present always seemed the best to Nick. Fading events held little interest for him, since the mill could never grind again with the water that was past.

In the morning the big sound looked smooth enough to tempt them upon its treacherous bosom. The crossing was made with ease; and later on came Sapelo with its particular troubles, the wind having risen meanwhile.

But the boats proved seaworthy, and the young Corinthians who manned them had learned many a valuable lesson from past experiences; so that by noon they had navigated this dangerous sheet of water and were well along their way.

"There's a lighthouse away over there, Jack," announced Josh, pointing ahead.

"Yes; that must be Doboy Light, and the sound of the same name will be the next to take our attention, boys," Jack replied, composedly, as though he had the entire map of the coast region impressed on his mind by now.

"Is there any end to 'em?" asked Nick, dolefully.

"Two more before we reach Fernandina, St. Simon's and big Cumberland. And after we've rested at Fernandina we'll go through a few more passages, and then take a little outside run of a few miles, when we can enter the St. Johns."

"Oh! happy day!" chanted Josh, pretending to strum a banjo as he sang.

"Then, if all goes well, we ought to bring up at Jacksonville inside of say two days at the most; is that so, Jack?" Herb inquired.

"Correct. And nothing is going to happen, make up your mind to that, fellows," Jack declared, resolutely. "We've allowed nothing to frighten us up to now, and yet used a due amount of caution, just as we promised those at home, when they gave us permission to take this jolly trip. And that's our slogan all the time, 'Speed, with care!' It's a winning combination, I tell you, boys."

They spent the night near Darien, in a creek that they happened to be passing through as a sort of short-cut.

Jack's confidence proved to be well placed, for on the following day they safely passed both St. Simon's and the big Cumberland Sound, bringing up close to Fernandina by nightfall.

Jack advised against trying to reach the city in the dusk. There was danger of running upon a snag, or happening to attract the attention of dissolute characters, who, taking advantage of the darkness of the night and the fact of the cruisers being strangers to the place, might attempt to rob them.

His plan was to stay where they were, a safe distance away, until morning, and then make their way across to the city.

"Just to think that we've really and truly done it," said Nick, puffing out with either pride or the amount of food he had consumed for supper; "and right at this minute the Motor Boat Club is resting on Florida soil! Why, I can hardly believe it. A year ago I'd have laughed if any fellow told me I'd engage to do one quarter of the stunts we've carried out since we left Philadelphia."

"Oh! you're improving every way," chuckled Josh. "I can even see signs of it in your eating. You've got three of us combined beat to a frazzle right now; and honest Injun, we think that by another month you can stand off the whole bunch. Long practice makes for success, and we all give you credit for trying your level best, Nick, every time."

It was a lovely night, this their first in Florida. The trees, festooned with the long, swinging, gray Spanish moss, looked like the real tropical thing to all of the boys. And they felt a pride that was surely justifiable, in the success that had attended their cruise down the coast.

"Best thing we ever did, and that's straight," asserted Herb.

"And not one serious accident to mar the record," Jack nodded, his eyes sparkling with satisfaction.

"Of course we don't count those several little adventures of our fat friend here," Josh put in, jerking his thumb in the direction of Nick, "because we all understand that, being such a good-natured fellow, and wanting to keep us in good humor, he did those stunts on purpose. Yes, I agree with the rest of you, that we deserve a whole lot of credit for coming through it all without a serious accident."

"And much of that luck is due to the wise head that piloted the expedition," declared George, generously; "and fellows, I propose that here and now, on the first night we spend on Florida soil, we give Jack Stormways three good cheers and a tiger, just to show that we appreciate his leadership. Here goes!"

And they were given with a will that must have made Jack's boyish heart swell with pleasure; for who among us but would feel flattered at the expression of admiration from his chums?

The next day they made for Nassau Sound; and happening to strike a favorable time for passing over the few miles in the open, they crossed the bar at the mouth of the St. Johns at just half-past two, continuing up the river to the metropolis of fair Florida.

Here in Jacksonville we will have to leave them for a time, recuperating after their eventful voyage, and making due preparations for continuing the same through Indian River and the keys that dot the whole Florida coast, with New Orleans as their destination.



THE END.



The further interesting and thrilling adventures of the Motor Boat Boys will be found in volume No. 5 of this series, entitled "The Motor Boat Boys Among the Florida Keys; or, A Struggle for the Leadership."



[Transcriber's note: This short story was part of the source book. Its author is unknown.]



MRS. STONE'S MONEY-ORDER.

One day a well dressed lady, purporting to be Mrs. Richard Stone, called at the money-order division of the New York office and asked for the money on an order for L10, which had been issued in Lowestoft, England, payable to the order of Richard Stone. The order presented on this occasion had apparently been properly endorsed by Richard Stone, who had made it payable to his wife.

The only precaution necessary on the part of the examiners and paying clerks was, therefore, simply to satisfy themselves that the lady was Mrs. Richard Stone, the rightful payee. There being no person present to identify her she exhibited several letters addressed to herself and her husband, and the identical letter from Lowestoft, which contained the money-order.

She told them where her husband was employed, and gave the name and number of the street of their residence. It seemed clear enough, and the money was paid.

Just such transactions as this occur a hundred times a day, and it cannot be expected that the clerks can remember very much about any particular transaction many hours after it occurs. Three weeks later, when another lady called, also purporting to be Mrs. Richard Stone, to make inquiries about a money order for L10 sent to her husband from Lowestoft, England, there was not very much to say except that the order had been paid.

This lady also produced a letter from her husband's sister in Lowestoft, saying that on a certain day she sent a money-order for the amount named; that she had just received his last letter, and there being nothing said about having received the order, she wrote to ascertain if the order had not been received.

Mrs. Stone, the second, stated that this was the first that her husband, or herself, had known of the existence of such an order, and she had called to see what could be done about it. If it had been paid, surely somebody must be responsible for the wrong payment.

It is the custom, where a wrong payment can be established, for the postmaster or the clerk making the mistake, to make the amount good to the right payee. Mrs. Stone's case was accordingly referred to me for adjustment.

Her story was told in such a simple manner that no one who heard it could doubt her word. But it was possible that she had received the money, and had forgotten about the transaction.

When the order was paid the lady who received the money was questioned by two examiners, both of whom were satisfied that she was the person to whom the order should be paid. The same two examiners talked with Mrs. Stone, the second, and one of them thought she was the lady to whom the money was paid, while the other could distinguish very little similarity and felt confident the first Mrs. Stone was not the second Mrs. Stone.

On the following day Richard Stone himself called to talk the matter over and give me some points. He suspected a young woman named Nellie Mason, who had been in the habit of calling on his wife, who was an old friend of hers, and who resembled her very much.

Mr. and Mrs. Stone resided in Twenty-eighth Street at this time, but at the time the missing letter must have arrived in New York they were living in a flat in Twenty-seventh Street. The mail for the occupants of this flat was left by the carrier on a table in the lower hall, and any person so inclined could have picked up the lost letter.

He had several samples of Nellie Mason's writing in the form of letters that Mrs. Stone had received from her from time to time, and they corresponded with the endorsements on the order.

The case was now becoming interesting, and, at Stone's request, I consented to call at his residence the next afternoon to talk with Mrs. Stone about Miss Mason.

Richard Stone was a young man of probably thirty-two, and an Englishman. His dress and appearance were faultless, while his conversation indicated that he was well educated. He had been in this country scarcely fifteen months, yet he was holding a confidential position in one of the largest corporations in the city, where he was held in the highest esteem, and where he was complimented alike for his rare abilities and gentlemanly deportment. Indeed, every person interested was delighted with him, and they had all often wondered at their good fortune in securing the services of such a preeminently competent man.

Mrs. Stone was somewhat younger than her husband, and was of fair size and fine form. "Her brow was like the snowdrift; her voice was low and sweet," and nature had also generously endowed her with an abundance of the most beautiful red hair that ever gladdened the heart of man with its warm and genial rays. She was an American, and had been married to Mr. Stone only a few months.

Mr. and Mrs. Stone were both at home when I called. I was as warmly greeted as though I had been a welcome messenger of peace from a mortal enemy. Mrs. Stone had hardly recovered from a terrible scare she had received the previous evening, and the household affairs had scarcely resumed their wonted cheerfulness and repose.

"Was it a burglar?" "No, worse than burglars!" And having never learned that anything brought more terror to womankind than the soft step of the artful burglar, I listened with bated breath to the interesting story of the husband.

It was his custom to arrive home each afternoon about six o'clock, where the bright smiles of Mrs. Stone had never, till yesterday, failed to bathe him in the warm and tender adorations of perennial affection. Last evening when he entered at the usual hour the house was still and dark, and the bright face of his loved one greeted him not.

A strange man approached him, in as great surprise us if the dead had come to life, and bade him be calm and composed, and said he thought Mrs. Stone would soon recover consciousness; that somebody had sent her word that her husband had been killed, and the shock was too great and too sudden for her to bear. A telegram from a down-town office, which brought the dreadful intelligence, lay upon the table, and it was signed, simply "N. M."

From this circumstance alone it was painfully evident that Nellie Mason was a bad and designing individual. Mrs. Stone was sweetly reclining on a richly-covered couch, and her faithful husband was lovingly administering to her every little want. The lady, like tender blades of grass that have been watered by a passing storm, seemed more beautiful than before her severe trial. Under the warm sunshine of sympathy and love, her many pleasing charms shone like diamonds in the diadem of royalty.

Seating myself within easy hearing distance of the fair Mrs. Stone, she began the enchanting tale about Nellie Mason, the sorceress. It was as follows:

"My maiden name was Francis West. My parents died when I was young, and I went to live with an aunt in Peekskill on the Hudson. There I received every attention that a dear relative could bestow upon the young offspring of a deceased sister. There I attended school, and in that school I first met Nellie Mason. She was about my age, and, like myself, was living with an aunt, though she was not an orphan.

"Pardon me when I tell you that I was an attractive young miss in those days. Young girls know as well as older ones that good looks, grace, and fine dress are envious attractions. No one understood this more perfectly than Nellie Mason.

"At school, at church, at parties, and everywhere, she seemed to grieve at my good fortune. I always treated her kindly, for I had been taught the charm of charity, yet, with all, it seemed that sometimes I could no longer bear the unpleasant feeling that steals over a person when it is known that another is constantly trying to imitate, and perhaps injure you.

"It is true, she looked like me in several particulars. That is, Nature had made her something like me, and the points of difference she was ceaselessly attempting to assimilate. There was only one marked difference, but that was easily changed. Her hair was brown; now it is exactly like mine. We were in the same classes and the same social circles.

"She tried to imitate my voice, my actions, and, so perfectly did she imitate my writing, that no person can tell which is the genuine and which the false. Whenever I procured a new gown, Nellie was as certain to have one like it as she was to live. She would even squeeze her foot into a two-and-a-half shoe, and was dying to imitate my smile. Poor thing, how I did worry her! But what bothered her more than anything else, was her inability in every instance to associate with the same particular persons that I did.

"In Peekskill, as I suppose it is in most places of its size, the young men are quite attentive to the young ladies. While my aunt was very solicitous about my company, I managed to receive about as much attention as the other girls, and, do you know, I never had a beau in my life that Nellie did not try to get away from me.

"Finally, just to bother her, I would tell the young men that if they paid Miss Mason any attention I would have nothing whatever to do with them; that I would cut them squarely. Well, one young fellow, whom I had thus admonished, thought it would be smart to tell the young lady what I had said, and since that day Nellie Mason has not been trying so much to imitate as she evidently has to injure me.

"Soon after I married Richard and came to New York to live, Nellie went home to Lewiston, Maine; and after she had been there a while she wrote me a letter in which she said she had married. I have her letter now. She did not remain long in Lewiston, for the next thing I heard of her she was here in New York.

"She called on me and said she was living with a Mrs. Gilbert, in East Thirteenth Street; that she and her husband had quarreled, and that she had resolved to make her own living, and was then at work in an Insurance office. It is needless for me to say that I did not return the call, but I presume it would have been better for me if I had.

"One evening, about half-past five, about three weeks before we left our old apartments, one of Mr. Stone's most intimate friends called. There was nothing particularly singular or remarkable about the call, for the gentleman often came with Richard and made real homelike visits. He had not been in the house long on this occasion before he said he was delighted to receive my kind letter. Of course, not knowing what he referred to, I promptly demanded an explanation, when he took from his pocket a neat little letter apparently written by me and signed 'Frances,' requesting him to call at 5:30 that day, as I wanted to see him particularly. Did you ever hear the like of that?

"Well, to make matters still more embarrassing, presently in walks Richard with another letter written in a scrawling anonymous hand, in which he was advised to be home by 5:45 as he would find company. The next thing we heard was the money-order affair, and the next was the telegram announcing Mr. Stone's death last night, which nearly killed me; and who knows what will be next?"

The only appropriate words I could command, after Mrs. Stone had finished, were: "Wonderful woman!" I assure you I was unable to state just then whether I referred to Mrs. Stone or Nellie Mason. If the strange story was true, Nellie Mason was wonderfully remarkable. If it was untrue, then Mrs. Richard Stone was the most remarkable character I had ever met. I promised to call again in a day or so, and hastily withdrew to strengthen or unravel the nicely-woven fabric Mrs. Stone had offered.

Richard Stone had acted so much in sympathy with his beautiful wife, that I began to think if she was wrong, Richard could not be right himself; so I determined to know more about him. I called upon the chief officer of the company where he was employed, and confidentially asked him what he knew about Stone.

He told me that Stone came from England with the best kind of written recommendations from several of the oldest established business houses in London and Norwich; and further, that he had been warmly recommended by the Young Men's Association, in New York to which he had been splendidly introduced, and in whom the officers of the association still retained a deep interest. He was a first-rate business man, and he thought there could be no more question about his character than there was about his own.

I told him there were some decidedly singular features about my case; but, of course, they could possibly all be cleared up without leaving a blemish on Stone's character. I thought, under all the circumstances, it would be best to have a frank talk about the matter, and if he still thought Stone was honest and honorable we would say no more about it.

He was so impressed with the story that he said they could not afford to retain him, valuable as he was, if there was a probability that he was not what he should be. But to be sure that they were making no mistake, they would commence the investigation in England, and at once. That day a cablegram was forwarded to an agent in London, who was given full instructions what to do and how to send his report.

Having disposed of Mr. Stone for a brief period I devoted a day or two to investigating Mrs. Stone and Nellie Mason, and I know the result will be read with interest. There was no record at Peekskill that showed that either of the ladies ever resided there. There was no record in Lewiston of Nellie Mason's father or Nellie Mason. She had never lived at Mrs. Gilbert's in East Thirteenth Street, but Miss Frances West had, and, by the loquacious landlady, who knew about all there was in this world worth knowing, and who had not kept a boarding house all these years for nothing, I was advised to investigate Miss West very sharply indeed. When I asked Mrs. Gilbert if she had not heard of Miss West's marriage, she said: "Tut, tut, I do not believe one word of it."

I was not long in determining beyond a doubt that Mrs. Stone sent the telegram to herself, announcing her husband's death. She had ingeniously sent it to her own number in West Twenty-seventh Street, knowing that the messenger, when he found no such person on the west side, would surely cross to East Twenty-seventh, and would not reach the last number till after she had arrived home. While I was looking up the telegram I heard that a detective was looking up a Miss Nellie Mason from Peekskill, who, it was supposed, had purloined a beautiful stem-winding, full jeweled Elgin, No. 10,427 from a gentleman from Boston, who had been spending a short vacation in New York. It is needless to add that there was no such person as Nellie Mason, and that the money-order was not repaid.

THE END