“Are you boys all Scouts?” Ruth asked after a few minutes, during which she had listened attentively to reminiscences of their fishing and canoeing trips at Pioneer Camp. And on being assured that they were, she continued: “My brother is, too; he belongs to Florida Troop No.—I forget the troop number, but anyway it’s the Bear patrol. They had a camp near Okechobee last summer.”
“Where are they now?”
“They’re going to meet at Claynor for a week or two, and then go on an exploration of the Everglades,” said Ruth. “Perhaps my brother and you-all will get acquainted one of these days; and that would be fine!”
“What’s your brother’s name?” asked Chester.
“Marcus,” answered the girl; “but everybody calls him Mark.”
“We’d be glad to know him, of course,” said Alec, politely; and Billy promptly added, “Sure thing, we would.”
Talking thus, they arrived at a place called Five Corners from the fact that it was the meeting point of five roads, or rather, the point where two other roads cut into the main highway. Ruth then suggested that they should set her down, for by taking one of the roads, she could reach Red Key within an hour, while they could continue their journey to Santario. But Alec would not consent to this suggestion, and he turned the car down the road leading to the little village that clustered around the life saving station.
Arrived there, Ruth introduced the boys to her father, who thanked them warmly for their bravery and invited them to visit the station early in the following week.
“The weather is still sort o’ uncertain at this time o’ year, and we may have storms almost any day,” said Peter Anderson. “Usually they don’t amount to much along this coast, but you never can tell. Anyway, come over when you can.”
“We will, thanks,” Alec replied; and after a cordial farewell, the boys drove away. An hour later they were at Palmdune, where their story had a sympathetic hearing and they were treated to a bountiful supper before they went to bed. Billy retired somewhat earlier than the others, yielding to Mrs. Sands’ advice. He really was more tired than the rest, and, furthermore, he wanted to write a letter home.