“Oh, it will be all right, then. Come on!”
They found the post office, and Nelson wrote a brief account of their adventures to his father. When he had signed his name to the postal card he paused and chewed the end of the pen for a moment. Then—
“Look here, fellows,” he said to the others, who were watching the village life through the dusty window, “we ought to decide where we’re going, so that dad can send our mail to us.”
“That’s so,” agreed Tom.
“Let’s keep on to New York, now that we’ve started,” said Bob.
“Well, but you wanted to go to Portland,” answered Nelson doubtfully.
“Never mind Portland. Maybe we can run up there when we come back. Let’s make it New York.”
“All right. Then I’ll tell dad to send our mail to the general delivery at Newport, and we’ll stop for it there the day after to-morrow. How’s that?”
“Sounds good to me,” said Dan.
An hour later they were back at the wharf, having given their legs a good stretching, and were making their way through the piles of lumber which covered the pier.