“No matter. In he goes! Nothing’s too good for old Carlo! Now you and Billy jump in and take the rear seat, and make him sit on the floor.”
They obeyed without more ado, though some persuasion was required to make Carlo get into the car and lie down at their feet. He showed a decided preference for jumping up on the seat between Ruth and Billy, and once there, for shaking himself vigorously. Billy good-humoredly protested that he was wet enough, and at last Carlo took the hint to subside.
Chester cranked the machine, sprang in beside Alec, and they were off, bowling over the long smooth road at a rate that defied the rural speed limits.
Alec was an excellent chauffeur, and he handled his big car with skill and assurance. There was very little traffic on the road at this time of day, so he had to look out only for an occasional mule-drawn market wagon driven by a negro in ragged blue “jeans,” or now and then a swarthy, smiling pedestrian who waved his hat and called out some jolly greeting, as they flashed by. Ruth was delighted with the ride. When they had gone two or three miles beyond a small settlement near the coast, she asked Alec to drive slower so that she might point out to him some fine fishing grounds between the low-lying keys.
“Dad said there is always good fishing out yonder,” she told him, “and he ought to know, because he’s very familiar with the shore all the way from Red Key to Santario. You see, he used to be one of the regular beach patrol before he was made captain of the Life Saving Station.”
“Is that so?” responded Billy, with interest. “I reckon he could tell us some great yarns about his experiences.”
“Yes, indeed. I’ll ask him to,” promised Ruth, “when you-all come over to Red Key and see the station some day.”
“We’ll do that as soon as Hugh comes,” Alec said, pleased with the suggestion.
“D’you think we could manage to put in a day or two fishing?” ventured Chester, whose enthusiasm for all kinds of water sports was unbounded.
“Yes, I guess so,” answered Alec.