At this time the boys were far away from the scene of their earlier adventures, being on a visit at the winter residence of Alec’s parents—Palmdune, a splendid mansion near a picturesque old town on the Florida seacoast.
It was early spring and the weather had not yet begun to be oppressively warm. Indeed, the nights were still cold with frequent threats of frost,—that dread enemy of the budding orange groves. Alternating with days and nights of mild stillness were intervals of semi-storm, of rough winds that swept the low-lying shore and menaced coastwise shipping with the danger of being blown landward upon the numerous sandbars and keys.
Like other towns and villages in that part of the country, Santario had thrived all winter on the influx of wealthy Northerners who were accustomed to spend “the worst months of the year” there. And now these pleasant resorts were just beginning to slide back into their usual grooves of inactivity, and to have the quiet, unruffled appearance which was most familiar though not most welcome to their oldest inhabitants. Claynor, the nearest railway station to Santario, was the town where the three boys had spent that day. The place was rich with interesting historical associations, and they had enjoyed visiting it. Its little museum contained many relics not only of the earliest Spanish colonists but also of the later wars with the Seminole Indians under their great chief Osceola. At present the boys were returning, late in the afternoon, to Palmdune, where Alec hoped to have another guest for the Easter vacation.
His expected guest, who had not yet arrived, was Hugh Hardin, formerly leader of the Wolf patrol at Pioneer Camp. After some hesitation on Hugh’s part, owing to the fact that he and Alec had not always been on the best of terms in the past, Hugh had persuaded himself that to decline Alec’s invitation without sufficient reason would be both ungracious and unfriendly, and so he had accepted it in the same spirit with which it was given. As a matter of fact, Hugh had done so gladly, for he had a genuine liking and respect for his rival, Alec Sands, and he had usually been the first to regret and to make amends for their previous unpleasantness. On his journey down South, Hugh was even now eagerly looking forward to the visit, while at the same time his three friends, bowling along the highway in the big touring car, were discussing his arrival.
“If we take the car out again to-morrow to drive over to Claynor to meet Hugh, we’ll take some grub with us,—you can bet on that!” said Alec. “I thought there was some kind of an inn at Claynor, but we found only that clam-and-oyster parlor!”
“Gee, what a joint!” exclaimed Billy in an aggrieved tone. “Bucking broncos wouldn’t have dragged me into it!”
“Me, neither,” Chester added with ungrammatical emphasis.
“I had a letter from camp to-day—from Buck Winter,” he continued. “We left so early I didn’t have time to show it to you fellows before we started. Buck says Tom Sherwood has been elected temporary leader of our patrol, Alec. Hope he’ll be as good a one as you were, old scout.”
“Thanks!” responded Alec, laughing. “How much do you want for handing me that one, Chet? Can you change five cents?”
“At this moment,” replied Chester, “I couldn’t change a—Hello! look at that!”