“Oh, they’ll soon have all the news.”
“Besides, we’ve a long cruise up the coast, back to Santario, still ahead of us,” continued Roy Norton. “And Mark is looking forward to seeing his family and friends at Red Key.”
There was a brief silence. The Seminole guides had resumed their poling, keeping the canoes almost abreast. A light breeze, warm and pungent with the tang of the marshes and the scent of scrubby pines, passed over the ocean of grass.
Chester broke the silence. “It’s been a great trip,” he said with quiet enthusiasm. “We’ve all enjoyed it immensely. I wish those fellows at Red Key could have come along with us; they’d have liked the run.”
“I guess they have plenty of adventures,” Billy added. “I’ll never forget our experiences at Red Key and later at the lighthouse.”
Hugh agreed with this statement. Somehow, he felt that the slight part he and his comrades had played in sharing the labors of those brave surfmen and guardians of the coast would linger in his memory longer than any other experience of their visit. It meant to them all much more than their brief sojourn at the Seminole village, with the stalwart braves returning from the chase, the squaws busying themselves with household cares, the romping children, the air of contented aloofness that pervaded the scene.
“Yes, it’s been a great trip.” He echoed Chet’s words with sincerity.
“It’s not over yet, thank fortune!” said Chester.
“It has hardly begun!” Alec rejoined briskly.
And, as later events showed, he was a true prophet; for the boys were destined to add many further adventures to their list of exploits before they returned to Santario and to Alec’s home.