“But we don’t remember the latitude on Sam’s half,” said Cliff. “Unless Sam does——”
“When he gets over his bump—it won’t be serious—he will be able to help. Anyway, we know in a general way that the place is somewhere in the Florida Keys, about twenty-five degrees and some minutes of North latitude and we all recall the longitude—and one-half of the map had the phrase ‘dip’ and the other ‘per’—put them together and they mean ‘Dipper.’” Mr. Neale sketched on a bit of envelope the picture of the constellation know as “The Dipper.”
“There!” he said, triumphantly. “Doesn’t that show you the same little marks that were on the two maps?”
Nicky, Cliff, Tom and Mr. Gray nodded.
“Well, then, we can find that set of islands,” declared Mr. Neale, “and, if Mr. Gray would carry on my work here, I, for one, would vote to go ahead!”
“Here too!” cried Nicky.
“Same for me!” stated Cliff, giving his father an imploring look.
“I’m with you,” Tom chimed in, not as aggressively, but with his will power overcoming his uncertainty.
“I’d go if you would let me,” said Sam, while Mr. Gray bandaged a lump on his head after it had been disinfected and washed. “I know where I could get a sloop with a little engine to kick it along if the wind failed——”
“That would be fine!” exclaimed Nicky. “I vote we take Sam in!”