"With good luck, fellows, we ought to make it tomorrow," Jack announced, one evening, after he had been closely examining his charts again by the light of the cheery camp fire.
"Do you really mean it, Jack, darlint?" demanded Jimmy, with the air of one who had almost given up hope.
"I sure do," replied the other. "As I make it out, this is Bull's Island we are on right now. If that's a fact, there's a fine inside passage all the way to Charleston Bay, behind several other islands, or at least one big one called Capers. Our troubles are over, so far as this part of the trip goes."
"That's bully good news you're giving us, Jack," remarked George; "and I hope it won't prove a delusion and a snare. I've had about as much of that push pole business as is good for my constitution, I guess."
"Yes, and look at me!" cried Nick, pulling a long face, though with only a great effort; "pretty near skin and bones, with all this worry and hard work; and to add insult to injury, put on half rations latterly. It's a shame, that's what."
"Rats!" scoffed the unbelieving George; "I'd like to wager now that you've gone and picked up ten pounds since starting on this cruise. By the way you put away the grub it ought to be nearer twenty."
"You don't mean to hurt my feelings, I know, George," said the fat boy, sweetly; "and, considering the source, I'll forgive you. But I warn you plainly, right now, that if I have to keep on being crew to your blooming old speed boat, I'm going to lay in a lot of rubber cushions at Charleston, so as to keep me from rubbing all the skin off my poor body when I have to sleep aboard here, and the boat wabbles with every teenty wave. Don't you say a word, for my mind's made up."
"Oh! get whatever you want in that line; it doesn't make a bit of difference to me. I never have needed cushions so far," George exploded, sarcastically.
"Huh! that's easy; because you've got me to bang up against!" exclaimed Nick.
"That's right, George; he's got one on you there," laughed Jack.