“Did you get your money from the circus folks?” asked Tom of Dan, as, with packs once more on their backs, they strode off toward the village.
“You bet. But, say, fellows, I had an awful time getting away. Murray made all sorts of offers, and finally I promised him that if I ever changed my mind I’d let him know right away.”
“It was a crazy business,” observed Bob.
“But it found us our dinners,” said Tom philosophically.
“You can always be sure of Tommy’s point of view,” laughed Nelson.
It was a clear, calm night, and walking was a pleasure. They were all well rested, and the four miles intervening between Millford and Bahogue were soon covered. A few minutes before they reached the hotel the ocean sprang into view, and they heard the beat of the waves on the beach.
“Sounds good to me,” sighed Bob. “Who’s for a bath in the morning?”
Evidently all were, even Barry, who, excited by the chorus of assent, barked loudly. They found the Seaview House without difficulty, assaulted the office gong until a sleepy porter appeared, wrote their names on the register—Dan signing as “Signor Danello”—and were shown to their rooms.
“Gee!” sighed Dan a few minutes later as he pulled the covers down and rolled under them. “A real bed again! This thing of sleeping nigh to nature is all very fine, Nel, but—the downy couch for mine every time! Good night!”