"Yes, and moving fast too," Charley agreed, "but I have a hope that we can do something with those fish. They are worth trying for, anyway. It all depends on whether we can get to Clearwater and back again before they die, as they surely will as soon as all the air is gone from the water. Come on, let's hurry."
As they hastened along at top speed, he explained his plan.
"The first thing is to get to Clearwater," he declared. "Get the Roberts boys and their launch and nets, and all the other boats and nets we can get together, then come back here as quick as we can get back. Of course, we will have to divide up with the Roberts but they have been good friends of ours and deserve it. There's enough fish to pay all of us for the trouble if we find them still alive."
"Go your fastest, lad," said the old sailor, briefly, "you'll find us right at your heels."
And go fast Charley did. It called forth all the wind and strength of his three companions to keep up with him.
Just as night was falling, four tired, draggled-looking persons entered the ticket office of the Atlantic Coast Line in Tampa.
"When's the next train for Clearwater?" demanded one of the youths of the party, crisply.
"Just gone," answered the agent, briefly. "No more until morning."
"But we have got to get to Clearwater to-night," said the lad, desperately.