“Ham,” cried his employer, enthusiastically, “you’re kind-hearted and proper. Lead us to that hot banquet.”
It was over the table, an hour later, that Mrs. Tremaine asked her husband:
“How many more days do you intend to remain here hunting?”
“Have you ladies had all you want of it?” queried the host, looking at his wife and his ward.
“More than enough for my part,” answered Mrs. Tremaine. Ida Silsbee added that she, personally, did not care to go alligator hunting again.
“You’ll both of you be more contented,” decided Mr. Tremaine, “if we run down to Oyster Bay and hoist anchor for Tampa. Up at Tampa you girls will have a chance to wear your pretty dresses. Jeff, can you start, before ten in the morning, and get the wagons back here to convey us to the coast?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then we’ll leave here to-morrow afternoon,” announced Mr. Tremaine. “We have alligator skins enough, anyway, to answer all purposes, including the making of an alligator leather bag for Halstead’s mother. I’ll have the bag made, Tom—a good, generous and handsome looking one.”
“Captain Halstead,” called out Jeff, following the young skipper away from table and speaking almost ceremoniously.
“You want to talk to me about going on the ‘Restless’?” asked the young sailing master.