“A birthday dinner for me?”
“Meant for a surprise?” chimed in Dick.
“I’m starving,” laughed Larry.
“Then let’s go on board the Tramp and see what the chef trots out.” Mr. Everdail led the way, inviting the others who had not originally been planned for.
“Thanks,” Larsen stated, “I’m too tired. Me for bed.”
“That’s right,” laughed Dick. “After a crack-up, always take a rest-up.”
“Now we’ll shelve this mystery.” Mr. Everdail led the way to the tender which would transfer them to the yacht for the evening run around illuminated Manhattan. “Eat, and have a good time, Sky Patrol.”
“We will, gladly, sir,” agreed Larry.
With the zest of healthy youth the chums “shelved” the mystery and hid their chagrin at being wrong again. The repast provided by the yacht chef was worth their attention. Especially palatable was the iced lemonade which the hot, humid night made very delightful.
“How do they get these ice-cubes the same tint as the lemonade?” Larry wondered, admiring the yellowish tone of the cubes, as he stirred the clinking mixture in his tall glass.