"Hold on!" Norton exclaimed loudly. "We've had about enough of this. Here we'll stay, my boy, and let our better-armed friends capture the gang. When they get to their boat it will be a case of 'first come, first served' to get away. Most of them'll be caught and captured. Meanwhile, it's up to us to find Hugh. He must be in that largest shanty there, unless——-"

"Come on!" yelled Billy, seeing his brother scouts already commencing the search.

He dashed over to the remaining shanty and flung himself against the door.

"Hugh, Hugh!" he called. "Are you in there?"

No answer—-only the roaring and crackling of the flames as they devoured the old walls and crumbling roof of the nearby abandoned dwellings.

"Hugh!" shouted Alec and Chester, banging on the door, while Mark ran around the cabin, looking in vain for a window or other means of entrance.

The door gave way and the three scouts rushed in, followed by Norton.

Dave stood in the doorway, his lanky form with the red glare of the fire behind it casting a grotesque shadow on the interior wall of the cabin. He remained there on guard, lest any of the smugglers should return.

Alec struck a match. Its sputtering flame lighted the single room, dispelling the shadows for a brief moment. Anxiously they all peered around the dingy shanty.

"Hugh, where are you?" said Billy in a hoarse whisper. "Are you here? Can't you speak?"

Still no answer.

Then Alec's match went out.

"Have you another match?" asked Norton.

Like Billy's, his voice was husky. A vague dread seemed to seize him, weighing down upon him like a tangible thing.

"Yes," said Alec. "Here's one more—-the last."

Again he struck a light and a hasty search was made. Every moment was precious.

In vain. The cabin was empty.



CHAPTER X

THE END OF THE RAID

At the beginning of the fight, Hugh wakened from a troubled sleep into which he had fallen, wearied with fruitless efforts to break the lock of the door. One thought was ever in his mind, even in his dream: to escape. For this purpose he had clawed away a wide chink in the log walls, he had even dug under the threshold—-without avail.

Nevertheless, he was glad to be active and thankful that he had been unbound before his captors went away, leaving him a prisoner in the shanty until they were ready to release him. Joe Durgan had even been considerate enough to leave a half loaf of bread and a glass of beer on the table; but Hugh declined these delicacies.

All during the fight he crouched by the locked door, listening in alternate hope and dread of the outcome, now and then raising his voice amid the din and confusion outside. It was perhaps not strange that none of his friends heard him, for his shouts only mingled with those of the smugglers and were lost in the general clamor.

But they were heard by one man, who, though not exactly a friend, was yet an amiable enemy.

In the midst of the conflict, when the Revenue Service men had arrived to turn the tide of fortune, the door was quickly opened and shut, and a man stood in the room, panting hard.

Hugh sprang to his feet, ready for any new emergency.

"What are you-all doin' thar, youngster?" said a voice in the darkness, a deep voice which Hugh recognized as Durgan's.

"Trying to get out, of course," he replied defiantly, every nerve in his young body tingling with excitement. "What did you expect me to do, Durgan?"

"Eh? Oh, nothin'. Thought you might ha' gone to sleep like a good little boy."

The man's harsh laugh sounded hollow and unpleasant. Hugh shuddered.

"I was asleep," he said, "but when——"

"Real unkind o' your friends to wake you up, eh?" interrupted Durgan. His hand stole behind him. With a quick turn he opened the door, and admitted some one. "Come in, Harry," he said. "The kid's here, all right. What did I tell you?"

"That so?" growled Harry Mole. "Well, we know who he is now. Somebody tipped off the officers about the run we was goin' to make to-night; and since it wasn't this kid, it must-a been one of his bunch. Shall we heave him into the stream, Joe, or leave him here?"

"Not on your life!" Durgan replied promptly. "He's caught on to too much about us while he's been here, and he can tell those ginks a lot that we don't want 'em to know. So's long as we kin get out o' here alive, we'd better take him along."

"He spoiled our plans to-night. He deserves to be knocked on the head an' thrown out to the 'gators!"

"Spoilt our plans, you bet! But he'll get his, by-and-by. Come, take him and hustle away. Cripes! hear them bullets smashin' into the wall!"

"Remember, kid," said Mole, "if you shout or let out a word, we'll stick a knife between yer slats."

From the fierce way in which Mole uttered this threat, Hugh did not doubt he would do as he said. However, he did not yield without a silent struggle, though he was soon overpowered by the two burly ruffians. Each taking him by an arm, they led him outside and dragged him over a stretch of bumpy ground, stumbling along in the semi-darkness.

Scarcely five minutes after they left the hut and the two burning shanties behind them, Hugh's friends burst into the empty cabin—-too late to rescue him.

But these young, well-trained scouts lost no time in searching the place. Separating into pairs—-Norton and Mark, Alec and Chester, with Billy and Dave in advance, following Durgan's and Mole's trail—-they formed a line of communication between the cabin and the site of the bonfire, hoping that by thus keeping a picket line they might catch sight of Hugh or his captors beating a hasty retreat toward the shore.

Meanwhile, Durgan and Mole with Hugh between them walked very fast indeed. Had they not supported Hugh, he should have fallen several times; for, young and strong as he was, he was almost worn out with the rough treatment he had undergone. Every minute he thought they would stop, and, making an end of their senseless threats, release him and run. But they evidently had no intention of doing so.

Hugh tried to ascertain in what direction they were leading him, but he soon gave this up as useless. He was on the verge of despair, when suddenly out of the gloom came a startlingly familiar call—-the call of the Wolf patrol.

"Wow-ow-ooo-oooo-hoo-Hugh!"

It sounded not far away, on his left, and the lad's heart bounded with joy. He knew that that call could come from none other than Billy Worth, and Billy must therefore be near at hand, ready to lead his comrades to Hugh's rescue.

For one wild moment he was tempted to answer the call—-then discretion prevailed, and he kept silence.

Naturally, the two men also were startled at the sound. Mole gave Hugh a prod in the shoulder with the point of a knife and Durgan swore volubly.

"None o' that thar, Harry!" he warned. "Don't hurt the kid. If you do, we'll——-"

"Aw, shut up!" retorted the other, and they hurried on.

By great effort Hugh said nothing, asked no questions, did not even answer the wolf-call. Instinct told him it would be better to do as his captors had ordered, and now he pretended to feel resigned to his fate—-knowing that help was forthcoming.

As they went on, sounds of a lively scuffle reached his ears, and he could also hear the dull booming of surf, by which he knew that he could be at no great distance from the shore. Behind him, evidently following, again sounded the wolf-call, giving him courage and renewed hope.

Durgan turned to him angrily.

"What made you jump when you heard that thar howl?" he demanded.

"Nothing. Where—-where are we going?" Hugh ventured to ask, at length, forgetting that he was not to utter a word of protest. "I'm dog-tired, and my knee aches—-a sprain, I guess."

"You lie!" retorted Mole fiercely, and he struck Hugh across the mouth.

"You'll soon have time enough to rest yourself, youngster," added Durgan in a kinder tone. "You're in luck that things ain't no worse for you."

But Hugh scarcely heard; at any rate, he paid no heed. Boiling with rage at the insult, he gave one shout: "Billy! This way, scouts!" and struggling desperately, he managed to slip from his captors' grasp.

In another minute he had whirled around and was running as fast as he could put foot to the ground.

To his surprise, Mole and Durgan did not chase him. When he paused for an instant to rub his bruised knee and to look around, he dimly saw them in the distance running to a spot where a crowd of men were pushing and struggling to get into a boat.

Presently he discerned a larger body of men hastening to the place, and in the dim light of the moon he saw that they were soldiers and seamen.

While he stood lost in wonderment, Uncertain where to go, he heard footsteps and familiar voices near. He gave the call of his old patrol, and Billy answered it immediately.

The next minute, Billy rushed into view, and the two chums were reunited in a vigorous bear-hug of sheer, silent rejoicing. They found words at last.

"Billy, old scout, I was beginning to think I might never see you again!"

"You were? Why, Hugh, I'd have looked for you from here to Yucatan and back again, twenty times over, by sea and land, before I'd give up!" cried Billy, forgetting in his enthusiasm how near he had come to the verge of despair.

"I'm dying to know whatever happened to you," he added. "But here come the rest of the bunch; so you'll have to tell all of us your story."

"It's soon told," said Hugh; and after joyful greetings had been exchanged, he told them all that had happened to him since his unlucky morning stroll to the hut on the far-away beach.

In their turn, they related the events of their search for him, and described the fight around the cabin in which he had so lately been a prisoner.

"And there's the end of the fight now," said Norton, pointing to the group of combatants and to a boat manned by five oarsmen who were putting out to sea. "Look! There they go!—-all of them who managed to escape No! By Jove, the boat's coming back to shore! I suppose Uncle Sam's men threatened to shoot the rascals if they didn't come back."

"Serves 'em right!" said Chester.

"Let's go over there and watch proceedings," urged Alec.

"I second the motion!" Hugh declared, eager to see the latest developments.

So without further discussion, they hurried over to the place, and were in time to witness the capture of Bego and his gang.

* * * * * * *

By morning, a sullen company of prisoners was put aboard the Petrel and conveyed southward to Key West for trial.

The interval between their capture and the departure of the revenue cutter was spent in putting out the fire near Durgan's cove, all that remained of the three adjoining shanties being a heap of charred logs and wind-swept ashes. Durgan's motor boat was fastened by means of a long cable to the aft rail of the Arrow, which was commissioned to tow it to a wharf at Charlotte Harbor, where it would be delivered to a brother of the smuggler. This brother, a thoroughly honest fisherman, was well known to Captain Vinton.

Bego's ship, the Esperanza, remained at anchor off the cove. Arrangements were made for its safe delivery at Charlotte Harbor, as soon as a suitable crew could be sent to convey it to that haven.

Hoping that his presence might not be required at the trial, though fully resigned to the probability of having to attend it, Hugh wrote out and signed a full statement of his experiences with the outlaws.

This paper was also signed by Norton, Captain Vinton, and Lieutenant Driscoll, as testifying their belief in its veracity. The captain of the Petrel undertook to deliver it to the proper authorities, and it was eventually accepted in lieu of Hugh's personal testimony.

Having attended to these matters, the crew of the Arrow went aboard about noon. The day was perfect for the return voyage, a fair breeze blew against her weather-stained sails, and the ocean was as blue as sapphire.

The entire party was glad to be on the sloop's clean decks once more; even Dave seemed happy and relieved when Durgan's Cove and its outlying shores faded into a velvety green blur along the horizon. So they left the scene of their adventures, and glided swiftly away "on the home stretch," as Chester called it, under cloudless skies.



CHAPTER XI

ABOARD THE "ARROW"

It was not until the second day of the voyage back toward Santario that Hugh felt quite himself again. The nervous strain of his experiences as a captive would have been enough to exhaust him, and in addition he had suffered real buffeting and hardship at the hands of his captors.

Dave stretched a hammock for him on deck at the captain's orders, and there Hugh spent nearly the entire first day of the homeward trip.

The other boys and Norton diverted his few waking hours with stories and riddles and simple games, and Captain Vinton, himself, contributed more than one tale from his store of recollections.

"Tell you what, boys," the old captain said as he concluded one of his yarns, "we fellers these days meet with a few excitin' experiences now and then, but to get some idea of what lively times on the water may be, go back to John Paul Jones and his day, or even to the sea fights of '62."

"Have you read much of the history of those days, captain?" inquired Roy Norton interestedly, while the boys leaned forward to hear the reply.

"Son," said Captain Vinton in answer, turning to Alec Sands, his blue eyes alight with a keen expression, "Son, go to my cabin and bring me an old, worn book from the shelf there: 'Famous American Naval Commanders,' it is called."

Until Alec's return, the captain looked out over the water with far-seeing eyes, and the others, watching him, wondered what stirring scenes his imagination was picturing to him just then.

He glanced up as Alec handed him the volume of naval history and grasped it with the firm gentleness of a true book lover. He turned it over thoughtfully, straightened its sagging covers, opened and closed it several times, and finally spoke:

"Thar's the answer to yer question, Norton," he said. "And that's only one of about a dozen hist'ries I've got on my old shelf. When times is dull or I'm waitin' fer a party who've gone into the Everglades, or when the Arrow is lyin' off shore in a dead calm, then I start in at the first page of the book that happens ter be on the end of the shelf, and I live over the old days of the privateers, when it meant somethin' to sail the seas."

"Who is your biggest hero?" asked Mark as the captain paused.

The old man smiled humorously before he answered.

"Wal', my biggest hero," he said, "is the littlest hero on record as a sea-fighter, I guess. Like Napoleon Bonaparte, his bigness was not in his body but in his mind. And that's Paul Jones of the Bonhomme Richard."

As the captain pronounced the name of his hero, he struck his worn book a resounding slap, and his jaws clicked in emphasis of his statement.

"Can't you tell us something about him?" asked Chester, fascinated by the old captain's earnestness.

"That's the ticket—-I mean, please do," endorsed Billy heartily.

"No, I can't do that," was the deliberate reply, as the captain rose to relieve Dave at the tiller, "but you can all borry the book and read the historian's account of the battle between the Serapis and the Bonhomme Richard. I git so excited when I read that, I hey ter go put my head in a pail o' water to cool it off! Fact! You know that's whar the cap'n of the Serapis calls out: 'Hev ye struck?' And John Paul Jones shouts back: 'Struck! I am just beginnin' ter fight!'"

As Captain Vinton straightened his rounded shoulders and delivered this emphatic quotation, he shook his fist at an imaginary enemy and then brought it down hard on the railing. Then he grinned sheepishly.

"You see how 'tis," he said, laughing at himself as he moved away. "Guess I'll hev ter stop talkin' or go fer that pail o' water!"

The boys, left to themselves, discussed the theme that the captain's words had suggested, and were rather ashamed to see how vague their knowledge of the famous battle was. So, at Alec's suggestion, Norton agreed to read the account of the fight as given in the captain's book; and grouped about Hugh's hammock, the boys listened eagerly.

"That makes our experiences on picket duty seem tame in comparison," said Alec, commenting on the story when Norton had closed the book.

"We were not all on the firing line," replied the young man, smiling. "I'll venture to say that Hugh did not find his share at all tame."

Hugh smiled and nodded ruefully as his mind flew back to his dangerous situation as a captive of the desperate filibusters, and he felt that he could understand a little of what it meant to be in the thick of the fight.

"Me, too," exclaimed Billy, shuddering at a sudden recollection. "I haven't told you fellows that I came near having my ear shot off, that time the other night when I was separated from the rest of you for a while. Excuse me from anything nearer real battle fire than that!"

Just at that moment, a soft, regular thump-thump-thump from the deck behind Hugh's hammock made all the boys turn quickly.

There stood Dave, skillfully flinging gayly colored hoops over a post at some distance from him.

"Oh, ho! A game of ring-toss, is it?" cried Chester, rising eagerly. "Say, boys, let's form rival teams and have a tournament."

"Good!" echoed Billy. "The Pickets versus the Pirates!"

"That sounds exciting!" called Hugh, sitting up in the hammock. "Count me in on that, boys. Guess I can get up long enough to take my turn now and then."

"Let Dave and Mr. Norton choose sides," suggested Alec, "Dave for the Pirates and Mr. Norton for the Pickets."

"Hurrah!" cried Mark. "On with the game!"

In less time than it takes to tell it, Dave, grinning broadly at his prominence, and Norton, entering into the contest with his usual spirit of enthusiasm, had chosen sides and a list was hastily written and posted on the cabin wall as follows:

Pirates vs Pickets

Dave Norton

Hugh Billy

Chester Alec

Mark Captain Vinton

"Oh, but I can't play!" protested the captain. "I've got my hands full with the Arrow!"

"We'll take turns and spell you at the helm," returned Norton. "All hands on board are enlisted in this fight."

Pleased at his insistence, the old captain yielded the wheel whenever it came his turn to toss, and he proved to be an adept at the game, to everybody's delight.

Norton and Dave had agreed that the contest should consist of five complete rounds, giving just twenty opportunities to each side. Only the total successful tosses would determine the winning score, but the best individual records would decide who should be the team captains in subsequent games.

The fun of the thing entered into every one of the contestants, yet not one of them failed to put his best efforts into the game.

"Now we'll see some accurate shooting," called Billy as Hugh took the rings for his fourth turn.

"No fair trying to rattle me," returned Hugh, laughing good-naturedly. "I'm still the interesting invalid."

"Hush!" whispered the irrepressible Billy quite audibly. "Don't say a word, boys! It might shake his nerve, you know, and he might suffer a relapse!"

"You teaser!" commented Hugh, beginning his play.

One after another, Hugh steadily tossed the rings over the post.

"Pshaw! You can't disturb him," ejaculated Alec. "He is as calm as the sea is just now."

"Five!" counted Chester softly. "Six! You put every one over this time, Hugh. Billy's jollying just inspired you!"

"And now it is his turn," said Hugh, returning to his hammock. "Now we shall see something!"

Billy flushed a little, grinned, set his teeth, poised his body firmly, and then swung into the position of the famous "disk thrower."

Thump! The first ring struck the deck a good foot beyond the post, rebounded, and rolled rapidly toward the railing.

Roy Norton stopped it with his foot and called, "Steady, Billy! Take your time."

Thump! The second ring, tossed more cautiously, dropped at least six inches in front of the goal.

Thump! Thump! Thump! Three more landed in quick succession, draping themselves gracefully against the standard that upheld the post.

"One more, Billy. Make this one count," coached his captain urgently.

By this time, Billy's face was scarlet and his hand shaking. He took a long breath, fixed his eye on the top of the slender post, and tossed the ring desperately. It fell well to the right of the goal and rolled up against Dave's feet.

Dave quickly stooped to pick it up, trying to hide the wide smile that parted his lips.

Billy's scout friends made no attempt to be so polite. Pickets and Pirates alike, they burst into a roar of laughter.

Captain Vinton, his weather-beaten face wrinkled into a dozen humorous lines, called out:

"Billy, words is sometimes like a boomerang—-they fly back and ketch ye, ef ye don't watch out!"

And so the contest progressed; now luck favored the Pirates, and again Captain Vinton's skill brought up the uncertain score of the Pickets.

At the end of the final round, however, Dave's team had a clean balance of ten counts over the combined records of the Pickets, the winners showing a total of ninety-five successful throws out of a possible one hundred and twenty.

Captain Vinton had the best individual score, securing twenty-six out of a possible thirty points, while Hugh, thanks perhaps to Billy's inspiring comments, stood next with a record of twenty-four.

The sun was setting redly over an almost calm sea as the games were finished. Dave, beaming at the success of his team, vanished without urging and soon the welcome odors of supper cooking were wafted to the eager nostrils of the hungry boys.

That evening they all gathered around the old captain as he sat at the helm and guided the lazily-moving craft, begging him for another tale from his own reminiscences or from his favorite history.

"Wal', boys," agreed the captain at length, "I'll tell you about one sea fight that I almost witnessed myself. Fact is, I was a little too young to be thar, but my father was mighty nigh bein' in the thick of it, and I've heard him tell the tale a hundred times ef I hev once.

"It was in March, '62," the captain resumed after a little pause. "The North was consid'rably stirred up over rumors of how the Confederates hed raised the Merrimac and made out of her a terrible ironclad vessel, warranted to resist all ord'nary attacks. Then these rumors were followed by news of the destruction of two sailin' frigates, the Cumberland and the Congress.

"The Union forces were pretty uneasy when they heard what hed happened off Hampton Roads, but they were all pinnin' their faith to a little new ironclad just built on Long Island and already speedin' south ter meet the Merrimac. My old dad, servin' on the Roanoke, was lucky enough to see both them craft:—-the big, clumsy Merrimac, all covered with railroad iron and smeared with grease, and the nifty little Monitor, that they said looked like 'a cheese box on a raft'!

"Wal', 'course you boys hev all read about what happened when the little fellow steamed out ter meet the big fellow, the day after the frigates were destroyed.

"Fer four hours, Dad said, the two ironclads jest pestered each other with hot fire, but the shot and shell slid off them like water from a duck's back. The little Monitor darted around the big Merrimac like a bee buzzin' round a boy that had plagued it.

"Thar wa'n't no great harm done—-except that Lieutenant Worden, who was in command of the Monitor, got hurt by the bits of a shell that drove into his face—-but the little ironclad hed proved two things. Fust, that she could hold her own; and next that the day of wooden vessels in naval warfare was over.

"As you boys know, warships now-a-days are all ironclad. Folks hey called 'em 'indestructible,' but I guess thar ain't no sech word allowable any more. Between the new explosives and the airships—-wal', they say we ain't heard the last word yet, by a long shot!"

The old captain rose as he spoke, shaking his head thoughtfully and gazing out over the sea and into the sky.

"Wal', boys, off to yer bunks now! We'll hev a fairly calm night, but thar'll be wet decks to-morrow!"



CHAPTER XII

A SURPRISING ADVENTURE

The captain's prophecy was literally fulfilled, and the boys had no opportunity for fairweather games the next day. Instead, clad in oilskins, they lounged about the wet decks, watching the captain's skillful handling of the boat, ringing the big fog bell when the atmosphere grew thick, and clinging to the railing when the sloop pitched and tossed restlessly on the heaving sea.

Dave retired as usual in rough weather into sullen silence, coming on deck most reluctantly only when his services were demanded by the captain.

Late in the day, the storm increased to a gale of some little violence, and the captain decided to make for the nearest harbor. He had hoped to reach the home haven that night, but his policy was to meet disappointment rather than to run risks.

"Mebbe I hev a surprise up my sleeve fer you boys," Captain Lem said, his eyes twinkling as he saw their long faces on hearing the news of delay. "Wouldn't mind addin' a little excitement ter the end of the trip, would ye?"

"We're aching for it," returned Billy promptly. "This has been an awfully long day, you know, captain."

"Wal', ef I've got my bearin's all right, we'll spend the evenin' in a right cheerful place. That's all I kin say now, but you boys go collect your belongin's, so's we kin land fer the night ef my calc'lations hold good."

Just as the early darkness of the rainy night shut down over the rolling sea, the boys discovered a gleaming light, high and steady, not far off toward the Florida coast.

"Jimmy!" cried Billy excitedly. "Bet the captain is going to take us to a lighthouse for the night!"

"Can't be your uncle's light, Mark, where we saw the spongers on the way down," commented Chester thoughtfully. "We're too near home for that."

"I have an idea—-" began Hugh slowly.

"And so have I!" interrupted Alec, glancing at Mark.

At that moment, Roy Norton began to ring the fog bell under the captain's directions.

"Ding! Ding! Ding, ding, ding!" resounded the heavy iron tongue.

There was a pause, and then the signal was repeated. A longer silence followed and again the slow, clear signal was twice repeated.

By this time, the captain had guided his dauntless little vessel into slightly quieter waters, although she still pitched and tossed in a way that would have alarmed a "landlubber."

Then came a new sound, louder than the noise of the pounding waves, deeper than the clang of the iron bell.

"Boom! Boom! Boom, boom, boom!" An answering signal had broken the silence where the steady light shone.

Mark started, as though recognizing the sound.

"Why, that——-" he began bewilderedly, "that is the signal gun at Red Key! Captain, are you signaling to my father?"

"Jest so," Captain Vinton replied. "Keeper Anderson knows my knock on his door!"

"How shall we land?" asked Chester excitedly, as he saw Dave making ready to drop anchor.

At that moment a rocket went streaking up toward heaven and a second later a slender rope fell writhing across the deck, where Roy stood swinging a torch.

"Hurray!" called Hugh, seizing the rope just as Norton, at the captain's orders, also grasped it. "Hurray! It's the breeches buoy!"

It will be recalled by those who followed the adventures of "The Boy Scouts of the Life Saving Crew," that Hugh and Billy, Chester and Alec had been at the Red Key Station on the night of a thrilling rescue. They had accompanied and in a slight way assisted the life-savers on their patrols, at the launching of the life boat, and in the final use of the breeches buoy.

It was most exciting to return to the scene of their memorable experience in this unexpected fashion.

The boys hauled willingly on the rope and soon it was taut, the odd conveyance swinging by the deck railing.

"You go first, Mark. While yer father knows my knock and realizes that I didn't give my danger signal, still he may be a mite anxious to see you, knowin' you was comin' home with me on the Arrow."

Obeying the captain's directions and grasping his waterproof bundle of clothes, Mark thrust his legs into the breeches buoy, the signal was given, and the trip through the waves began.

Soon the strange vehicle was back again, and this time Chester, buttoning his oilskins about him closely, was ordered ashore.

In a brief time Hugh, and then Billy, Alec, and Norton had followed the others.

Meanwhile, Captain Vinton, with Dave's help, had made everything shipshape on board the Arrow. Then, sending Dave shoreward in the breeches buoy, the captain himself, true to tradition, waited to be the last to leave his ship.

Although they had not encountered a moment of real danger, the boys had been given an experience of actual rescue. When Captain Vinton joined them on shore, they greeted him enthusiastically and then stood back to watch his meeting with Keeper Anderson.

The latter grasped the captain's hand in a hearty grip.

"Good for you, Lem, you old sea-dog!" cried the keeper. "You didn't scare us any and it was great fun for my boy and his friends. Mark has gone in to see his mother—-she'll be some surprised—-and to tell her to fix up some hot coffee and things for you 'survivors.'"

"Haw! haw! haw!" laughed the old captain. "This was the easiest shipwreck I ever managed to survive! He! he! he!"

In great good nature the two men walked toward the keeper's house, while the boys followed, eagerly renewing their acquaintance with the stalwart men of the life-saving crew.

Roy Norton was an interested observer, and when he, too, had met Mrs. Anderson and Ruth, and heard the story of their first exciting encounter, he no longer wondered at the boys' enthusiasm.

That night the crowd slept, as four of them had before, in hastily arranged shakedowns; and when morning dawned, they looked out upon a sea so blue and sparkling they could scarcely realize that it was the gray, angry, heaving expanse of the night before.

The Arrow dipped and rose jauntily on the sapphire water, giving no sign that she, too, had spent a restless night pulling and tugging at her deeply embedded anchor.

After an early breakfast, the four boys said their farewells to Mark and Ruth and their parents, and, with the captain and Norton, went out to the Arrow in boats manned by members of the life-saving crew.

Not many hours later, they reached Alec's home in Santario, and there they found Mr. Sands, waiting a little anxiously for their safe return. He had learned from the morning papers that the previous night's storm had been severe at sea, and he had not known how or where the Arrow might have weathered the gale.

When he had been told of the "rescue" off Red Key Life Saving Station, he exclaimed impatiently, "Why in the name of sense, didn't you telephone me from Red Key? Here I have spent many hours in needless anxiety."

The boys looked at one another in silence.

"It simply never occurred to us that we were back within communicating distance," replied Alec at last. "We haven't seen or heard a telephone since we left home."

"And really, Mr. Sands," said Roy Norton quickly, "when you hear what strange, unusual experiences the boys have had, you will not wonder at their forgetting the convenience of a little, every-day matter like the telephone. For myself, I offer no excuse. I should have been more thoughtful. But I, too, have dropped the customs and responsibilities of home life about as thoroughly as have the boys, I am afraid."

"That is all right, Norton," said Mr. Sands. "I spoke hastily, for my nerves were a little frazzled.

"Now, boys, make yourselves comfortable and clean, and then come out on the veranda and tell me the tale of the exciting trip."

It was an eager quartette of boys who responded to this invitation; and when they finally started to relate their experiences, Mr. Sands found it necessary to hear them in turn in order to get any clear idea of connecting events.

At length, however, he had followed them on their trip south, in imagination; had seen the panting tarpon on the deck of the Arrow; had taken the winding waterways into the Everglades; had encountered the revenue cutter and the filibuster; had watched through a night of adventure with the scouts on picket duty; and had finally swung safely through the dashing waves to the Life Saving Station.

"Well, boys, I little thought when I put you aboard Captain Lem's sloop for a little cruise south that you would see so much variety and excitement. But if you are not sorry, I am not. You are all home again, safe and sound, and none the worse for your experiences. Take it easy, now, for the rest of your stay here and have the best time you can."

This advice the boys were not at all reluctant to follow. For a day or two they lounged about the broad piazzas in hammocks and easy chairs, reading books from Mr. Sands' well stocked library or from Alec's own bookshelf.

On the second evening of this quiet home life, however, Billy's uneasy spirit led him to say:

"Fellow scouts, I move you, sirs, that we take to the road. My hiking muscles are aching for use. We have sailed and paddled and motored. Now I propose, sirs, that we tramp."

"Second the motion!" echoed Chester.

"What do you think of the idea, Alec?" asked Hugh, turning to their young host. "Will your father think we are ungrateful guests if we go off for a day or two so soon after the cruise?"

"We'll plan a trip," replied Alec readily, "and submit the scheme to him to-night. If he has no objections, we will telephone Mark and ask him to join us, and perhaps Norton can go along, too."

Alec's suggestion was carried out, and Mr. Sands not only approved the plan but added interest to it by producing some excellent road maps and proposing a tour of adventure.

"Suppose," said he, "instead of traveling as one company, you divide your forces, three of you taking one route and three another to your night's camping place. Here is a good spot to camp," indicating it on the map, "and I will send the machine there with the essential supplies so that you can 'hike' without being heavily burdened. How does that strike you?"

"As being far better than our first plan," applauded Billy.

The other boys agreed enthusiastically, and the details were promptly arranged.

Early the next morning, as the arching sky and gray waters began to take on a rosy glow from the approaching sunrise, the automobile shot out of the driveway between the palms and down the shell road in the direction of Red Key, carrying Alec and Chester to meet Mark Anderson.

The whir of the motor drowned the twitterings of the awakening birds, but could not dull the fresh odor of the jasmine, nor the beauty of the flowering vines and dew-wet hedges.

Even Chester was stirred by the "newness" of the whole world.

"Cripes, Alec, as Captain Vinton would say, this morning air and the view are worth crawling out at an unearthly hour to enjoy!" he exclaimed. "That ocean looks about a million miles wide, too; you can't even tell where the sky begins."

"There is Mark!" was Chester's next comment as the machine swung around a curve that had hidden an intersecting road.

"'Morning, Mark," called Alec in greeting as the two boys jumped out of the car to join the waiting lad. "Now we're off!"

He turned to the chauffeur, assuring himself that the man understood the directions for reaching their camp with supplies late that afternoon, and then fell into step with the other scouts for their all-day hike. Beneath their feet the broken shells of the road crackled, overhead the towering palms waved, near the roadside the stiff grass bent noisily in the breeze, and around them momentarily day grew clearer and brighter.

As the morning advanced and the boys strode on nearing the pine woods, robins and bluebirds, shrikes and chewinks greeted them; and as they stopped for luncheon near a broad, open trail in the barren woodland a buzzard sailed above the tree-tops and peered at them curiously.

In the meantime Norton, Hugh and Billy had started promptly twenty minutes after the departure of the machine. Billy was in high spirits and declared that he scented adventure in the air. For an hour, however, nothing occurred to disturb the peaceful sway of Nature, and Billy was about to abandon his attitude of expectation.

Suddenly the stillness was broken by the uneven rattle of rapidly moving wheels over the shell road. Then the clatter of pounding hoofs further shattered the silence.

"It comes!" shouted Billy dramatically. Around a bend in the road came a galloping white horse, old and lean, dragging at its heels a reeling hurdy-gurdy cart.

Billy sprang for the horse's head. Almost at his touch the old creature stopped submissively.

"The poor old nag is all in," said Billy sympathetically, patting her quivering neck.

Meanwhile Hugh and Roy Norton had righted the music cart, and Hugh impulsively seized the handle of the machine and turned it to test its condition.

"Hi—-yi—-yi!"

A dark-skinned foreigner came into sight, running toward them down the road.

He frowned at them darkly and dashed up to the old horse, swinging a short whip threateningly. Before the lash could fall on the still trembling beast, however, Hugh and Billy had sprung simultaneously upon the man.

"None of that!" cried Hugh, wresting the whip from the man's grasp.

The infuriated foreigner turned upon him with an avalanche of rapid words, struggling to break away from his captors.

At that Norton stepped into view before him. With a few gestures, a few faltering Italian and French words, and with great calmness and good nature, he managed to tell the man that his wagon was safe, and that the boys were willing to let him go if he would not beat the poor, tired, old horse.

Norton's manner, more than anything else, impressed the angry man. His scowls gave way to a pleasant expression and he nodded smilingly. The boys stepped back and the hurdy-gurdy driver busied himself at once, testing the harness and wheels and even patting the thin old nag.

Then he climbed upon his seat and gathered up the reins. Hugh picked up the fallen whip and handed it to him. The dark foreigner smiled suddenly and, reaching over, put the whip into its socket. Then, clucking to his horse, he moved slowly down the road.

"Well, what do you think of that?" cried Billy, puzzled at the sudden capitulation.

"That?" returned Norton. "That is a bit of southern Europe—-tempest and sunshine, rage and child-like faith combined."

"Like a small boy, he needed to be managed," said Hugh, "and you knew how to do it."

With a new respect for Roy Norton, the two scouts joined him again on their inland hike. But they did not forget the incident, nor did they fail to relate it that evening to the other three boys, whom they found already established at camp around a blazing fire.

The next morning the returning parties exchanged routes for the homeward trip, but nothing more exciting was encountered than glimpses of orange groves, of pine barrens, of cypress swamps, and of numberless birds.

But their "hiking muscles" had been well exercised and they felt nearer to the heart of Florida because of their long tramp.

There were a number of letters waiting for the boys, some from their home people and others from the scouts who were enjoying the "Geological Survey" at Pioneer Camp. These the boys shared, eagerly discussing the news and wondering what plans would be made for the fall and winter.

Some of the things that actually did happen the following fall are related in "The Boy Scouts of the Flying Squadron."

THE END