A long day's run was taken, and as they sought a snug harbor that afternoon the solemn face of Frank assured his chums that they were near the end of their delightful winter vacation.
"If you look over yonder, fellows," said Frank as they drifted slowly toward the harbor that had been selected for the night's anchorage, "you'll see something that will tell you the city on the key is close at hand. To-morrow we will wind up our little cruise, I'm sorry to say."
A groan greeted this announcement, although they had suspected that such an ending to their happy time was imminent.
Jerry reluctantly raised the marine glasses.
"Yes, it's a fact, fellows," he said slowly. "I can see the wharves and some of the boats, as well as church steeples. That's Cedar Keys, all right."
"Then this is our last night in camp. Well, boys, don't let's get the blues. We've had a bully good time, and will never forget what has come our way. Why, the rescuing of the wrecked balloonists alone paid us for coming," said Will.
They found plenty of water, and anchored in the mouth of the famous
Suwanee River, with the busy city something like twelve miles away.
Once more they went ashore, and on the bank of the stream of which they had so many times sung they built their last campfire and put up their tent.
"Lucky we bundled those things in before leaving that camp, when searching for the lost balloonists," said Will, who was figuring on getting a picture of the scene in the morning, to finish up his series.
"Yes, for otherwise we'd have had to sleep on board to-night," laughed
Frank.