"It is they," declared Jim as they drew closer, "but how Tom has grown. He looks over six feet."
"That isn't Tom," said Jo. "It's some one else. The short one is Tom." Then he saw Jim grin and realized that he had been kidded.
"If this wasn't my busy day," said Jo, "I'd give you a punching for being so smart."
Five minutes later, the boat had grounded on the pebbly beach and The Frontier Boys were again united. There was a great jubilee for a while with the Spaniard, the Indian, and the lanky shepherd on the outskirts of the family celebration, but in a short time they were all good friends, each according to his different nature; the Spaniard, suave and courteous, the Indian stolid, but with his share in the general good-will, and Jeems Howell, the shepherd, lankily humorous.
"We met our old friend Captain Broom in the channel, boys," said Jim, "steaming along like the Devil was after him."
"I'll give him reason to think so," growled Juarez sullenly, "if I ever get on his trail."
The Indian, Yaquis, grunted approval, for there seemed to be a bond of sympathy between him and Juarez, as the reader can well understand.
"How far is that cave, Tom, where the old codger left you?" inquired Jo.
"Just around the bend," said Tom. "Here's the rock where Juarez made his famous jump."
"How did you ever get up there?" asked Jo in wonder, looking up at the pinnacle of rock.