“Do you think he will?”
“Why not? Even if they get hold of him again, I think there will be time enough for him to see Mr. Jamieson first. And I’ve got an idea that Mr. Jamieson will be able to scare him pretty badly.”
“All out for Green Cove,” called the conductor just then, appearing in the doorway, and there was a rush for the end of the car.
“Well, here we are,” said Eleanor. “This isn’t much of a city, is it?”
It was not. Two or three bungalows and seashore cottages were in sight, but most of the traffic for the Green Cove station came from scattered settlements along the coast. It was a region where people liked to live alone, and they were willing to be some distance from the railroad to secure the isolation that appealed to them. A little pier poked its nose out into the waters of the cove, and beside this pier was a gasoline launch, battered and worn, but amply able, as was soon proved, to carry all the girls and their belongings at a single load.
“Thought you wasn’t coming,” said the old sailor who owned the launch, as he helped them to get settled aboard.
“We missed the first connecting train and had to wait, Mr. Salters,” said Eleanor. “I hope you didn’t sell the fish and clams you promised us to someone else?”
“No, indeed,” said old Salters. “They’re waitin’ for you at the camp, ma’am, and I fixed up the place, too, all shipshape. The tents is all ready, though why anyone should sleep in such contraptions when they can have a comfortable house is more’n I can guess.”
“Each to his taste, you know,” laughed Eleanor. “I suppose we’ll be able to get you to take us out in the launch sometimes while we’re here?”
“Right, ma’am! As often as you like,” he answered. “My old boat here ain’t fashionable enough for some of the folk, but she’s seaworthy, and she won’t get stuck a mile an’ a half from nowhere, the way Harry Semmes and that new fangled boat of his done the other day when he had a load of young ladies aboard.”