"Not on my account," she replied unhelpfully. "I'm perfectly fresh, and the ride is exhilarating."
"Then it would be a pity to be held back by Billy's inexperience," Cosden commented, glancing at him with a malicious smile. "On, on to Elba Beach!"
The boy managed nearly to keep up with them for the balance of the distance, but was quite ready to throw himself on the ground when they arrived at their destination.
"Those are the 'boilers,' Billy," Merry announced to him, as they found the expanse of sea spread out before them, with the curious coral atols in the foreground, around which the water seethed.
"Nothing that boils interests me in the least," was the unenthusiastic reply. "Lead me to an ice-chest and I'll give it the bunny-hug. Say, Mr. Cosden, you are some rider, aren't you? And Merry is no slouch!"
"I'm glad you suggested the change," Cosden said. "I have underrated your headwork, my boy."
"You certainly ride mighty well for a man your age,—doesn't he, Merry?" Billy continued with apparent good humor, but, aggravated to a point of impertinence by the patronizing attitude, he determined to break even with his tormentor. "Your wind is good, and the way you pedaled up that hill made me forget that you were old enough to be my father. You're mighty well preserved, aren't you?"
Cosden was nettled. "Your idea of age needs some revision," he retorted sharply. "If I were to figure things the same way, I would suggest that the next time you come to Elba Beach you use an automobile perambulator instead of a bicycle.—Now let's call it quits."
"They don't allow automobiles down here," Billy corrected seriously. "That's one reason why I came. I never want to see a buzz-wagon again."
"Skid, collision, run-over, smash-up—" Merry began helpfully.