The Florida men now devoted their attention to securing the second alligator and adding it to the tow behind the launch.
“Mo’ hunting, Mr. Tremaine?” inquired Jeff, coolly.
“Not to-day,” responded the host, with emphasis. “We’ve had very fair sport, not to speak of a miraculous escape for my ward. We’ve had quite enough excitement. I think the old bungalow at the head of Lake Okeechobee will look very cheery to us when we get there.”
Ida had already made some attempt to thank the young motor boat boys for their gallant conduct. Now, she tried to say much more. Mr. and Mrs. Tremaine and Oliver Dixon now started to overwhelm the boys with their gratitude, but Joe Dawson interposed quietly:
“The least said is soonest mended, you’ve heard, and I guess the same idea applies to thanks. We’re glad we could be useful, but there is no use in making a fuss about us.”
“That’s about right,” smiled Halstead. He turned to take his seat by the steering wheel, then observed the wistful looks of Jeff Randolph.
“I didn’t know, before, Jeff,” remarked the young captain, pleasantly, “that you knew anything about handling motor boats.”
“I won’t claim I do know a heap,” rejoined Jeff, modestly, “but I will say that there’s nothing I enjoy mo’ than taking the wheel of a launch or cabin cruiser.”
“Help yourself, then,” invited Halstead, moving back. “You surely do know more about these black waters than I’ll ever know.”
Jeff’s eyes gleamed with real pleasure as he seated himself at the wheel. He gave the engineer’s signals, and backed the launch out neatly, then headed northward.