The question came bluntly. Nat answered it with equal frankness.
“I really don’t know,” he said. “As you are aware, though, our course is now laid for Santa Barbara.”
“So you said last night, when you kindly offered us a passage home,” said the professor.
He paused for an instant, and Nat swung the Nomad’s bow around a trifle more to the south.
“Have you no plans for further adventurous cruises or auto trips?” pursued the man of science.
Nat laughed.
“I guess we’ve had our fill of adventure for a time,” he said; “that cleft between the volcanic islands nearly proved our Waterloo.”
“Nonsense; such lads as you could not live without adventure,” admonished the professor, making a frantic grab at his hat, as a vagrant wind gave it a puff that set it rakishly sidewise above one ear. “Do you mean to say that you feel like settling down to humdrum life now, after all you have seen and endured?”
“I guess we all feel like taking a rest,” said Nat. “We have had a fairly strenuous time of it lately.”
“Granted. But it has put you into condition to weather further times of stress and trial. Ever since we had that talk last night about the Motor Rangers, and what they have accomplished, it has been in my mind to broach a proposition to you.”