What kind o trouble?
"Any old kind. They're not particular as to the brand. It's war stores they want, and discontented loafers for soldiers of fortune. And the Visteros are stealing dynamite to threaten the Canal."
"Bosh!" roared Vinton in a loud guffaw. "They couldn't do it! Let 'em try!"
"Yes,—-let 'em! But meanwhile, we're out to put the kibosh on this smuggling. By the way, Vinton, now that you've made your report, you can turn around again when you've got the wind, and go back up along the coast. No need to go to Key West now."
"Hum-mp!" grunted Dave. "Waste time, get sick—-all for nuthin'!"
"Shut up, you greasy Seminole!" muttered Vinton, and he turned away scornfully. "All right, we will," he called to the Petrel. "What you goin' to do?"
"First find out if that craft hid anything over there behind that key where she was lying, and then follow her."
More confabbing of an unimportant and general nature followed between Vinton and Kelsey and the man in tweeds, who was evidently the special correspondent of some newspaper. At the end of the conference, Kelsey called out:
"Well, I guess we'll mosey on, Lem. Goodby and good luck to you. If you meet any smugglers in the upper 'glades or along the coast, send word to Tampa; they'll rush a cutter with some of the Gulf police to the spot. Keep a sharp eye on strange-looking craft, will you?"
"Aye, aye!" responded the Arrow's captain, little knowing into what adventures this pursuit of smugglers would lead him and his crew.