“By the way,” said Shirley as they walked along, “how is your wound? I see you have removed the bandage.”
A startled expression flitted across the young man’s face, but neither girl perceived it.
“It’s much better,” he made answer. “Not even a scar left. It didn’t amount to much, after all.”
Fifteen minutes later they were back aboard the Yucatan, where Shirley related their experiences to others of their party.
“I’ll have to keep a closer watch on you two,” declared Mr. Willing. “Every time you get away by yourselves you run into trouble. And you won’t always come out of it so easily.”
Several hours later the big steamship moved majestically out of the harbor and soon was headed down the coast once more. She came to anchor again the following morning at Jacksonville, the last American port at which she would touch until she reached San Diego, California. The Willing party went ashore again, but this time, true to his word, Mr. Willing would not permit the girls to wander away by themselves.
As they strolled about, Shirley became suddenly ill. She knew it was nothing serious, brought on probably by the excessive heat. Therefore she informed the others that she was going back aboard the ship, as she wished to lie down. Mabel agreed to go with her.
The fathers saw the two girls into a taxicab, which soon dropped them at the pier, where they immediately went to their suite.
Shirley felt much better now that she was out of the sun, and lying down on the sofa picked up a book and commenced to read. Mabel sat down at a little desk to write a letter.
In spite of the cooling breeze made by the electric fan in the room, it was still rather warm, and Mabel left the outer door open to get what breeze they could from over the water. Mabel was in the first room, and Shirley in the one beyond.