As the car whirled along the street Spudger’s tents were brought into view again, but none of those whom they had met could be seen.
“Poor old Joe,” sighed Dave. “I’m afraid he’ll never get that chance he wants so badly.”
With but a few vehicles on the long, straight road the motor car leaped forward at a rate which caused the miles to slip by with astonishing rapidity. Before the noon hour it rolled across the East Water Street bridge, and soon stopped in front of the garage where it had been previously left.
“Now we want to see Uncle Ralph the quickest ever!” exclaimed Victor, flicking a few spots of mud from his clothes. “By George, it seems like an age since I was on board that yacht.”
“A few more weeks of the same stuff would make you a strong, husky chap,” said Tom, loftily.
“Like yourself, I suppose?” gurgled Victor.
As the boys trooped into the hotel, perhaps with a trifle more noise and hilarity than was necessary, they heard a sonorous voice exclaim:
“Well, well; here you are, at last!”
Captain Bunderley, his weather-beaten face wreathed in smiles, stamped forward. He seized Victor Collins’ hand.
“I’ve never seen you looking better, lad!” he said. “I want to hear all about those wonderful experiences you’ve been having. Traveling with a circus, eh? And, Bob, I’d like to know how you managed to find each other.”