“Yes, what else is there to discuss?” inquired Ned.
“Chunky would like to discuss that lunch you promised,” said Jerry with a laugh. “Eh, Chunky?”
“Well—” began Bob, looking somewhat sheepishly at Mr. Slade.
“Don’t mind me,” put in that gentleman. “Go ahead with whatever you had planned. The professor and I will go out on the porch. I’ll smoke a cigar to drive the mosquitoes over to Mr. Snodgrass so he can catch ’em and sell ’em to a museum,” and he laughed.
The boys had their lunch, and, in justice to Bob it must be said that Ned and Jerry ate almost as much as he did. They talked, between bites, of their trip, and indulged in all sorts of conjectures as to what adventures might lie before them. They imagined strange enough ones, but they were as nothing to what really befell them when they got to the land of the everglades.
The little party broke up about midnight, with mutual promises on the part of the chums to meet early the next morning and get the Dartaway in shape for the long trip.
They met at the river dock, where their boat was kept, and gave the craft a good overhauling. Some changes had been made in the craft since the trip on the Atlantic coast. The boat was more powerful, and was so arranged that they could sleep on board, for it had a portable awning and side curtains that could completely enclose the craft. Larger bunkers for the stowing away of provisions and water had been put in, the machinery had been overhauled and, save for a few minor changes, the Dartaway was ready for a long trip. These changes were made during the next two days, and then the boat was enclosed in a stout cradle. It was put aboard a flat car and, at the end of the week, had started on the journey to St. Augustine.
As the boys were walking up the street from the depot they met a man with a small gray moustache, who looked sharply at them.
“Excuse me,” he said, “but can you tell me where I can find a Mr. Noddy Nixon? I’m a stranger in town, and I want to see him on business.”