“Why that’s where the best oranges in the world grow,” explained Bob, as if that was reason enough. “Indian river oranges are fine!”
“You can stay there,” said Jerry. “We’ll go on to the everglades.”
“I’m not going to stay all alone,” remonstrated Bob. “You might wait while a fellow gathered a few oranges, though,” and he assumed an injured air.
“The trouble is your idea of a ‘few’ would mean a boat load,” came from Ned. “But I guess we can gather some as we sail along.”
“Where do you plan to go from Indian River?” asked Mr. Slade.
“We’ll land at Titusville,” replied Jerry, running his finger along the map, “and then—”
He was interrupted by a sudden movement on the part of Professor Snodgrass, who had ceased to take part in the conversation, and an instant later the room was in darkness.
“I’ve got him!” cried the scientist eagerly. “He’s in my hand on the table, but I’m tangled up in the gas lamp hose. I must have touched the stop-cock and turned off the light. Don’t move, please, any of you. Some one strike a light so I can see to put my prize safely away.”
“What is it?” asked Mr. Slade as he ignited one of the gas jets of the chandelier.
“One of the rarest specimens of June bugs,” was the professor’s answer. “I saw him crawling on the table and I made a grab for him. He was right under the gas hose hanging down from the chandelier to the table lamp, but I didn’t think of that. I hope I didn’t hurt any one.”