COMING EVENTS.
Ruth’s spirits, considering the shock and excitement which she had
experienced scarcely an hour ago, seemed to have risen wonderfully. And
somehow her light-hearted gaiety was soon felt by the three courageous
young Scouts who had shared her danger. As they all walked over to the
waiting auto, chattering and laughing, even Billy forgot his sorry
plight, though he was still “soaked and sticky,” as he said jocosely.
Alec went to find his coat which he had cast aside, and, returning with
it presently, he made Billy remove his wet one and put on the dry
garment as well as the dust-robe which lay folded upon the seat in the
tonneau.
“I’ll look like an Indian with a blanket,” said Billy, laughing.
“Never mind; please put it around you tight—like this,” urged Ruth, and
forthwith she wrapped it shawl-wise around Billy, who immediately ceased
to demur.
She was about to spring into the car, when she paused, one foot on the
running board, and looked questioningly at Alec.
“Oh, I almost forgot poor Carlo!” she exclaimed, struck by a sudden
misgiving. “What _can_ we do with him? He can’t run all the way and keep
up with us, can he?”
“Not much!” was Alec’s emphatic reply. “He’s going to ride with us.
There’s plenty of room in the car.”
“But he’s dripping wet!”
“No matter. In he goes! Nothing’s too good for old Carlo! Now you and
Billy jump in and take the rear seat, and make him sit on the floor.”
They obeyed without more ado, though some persuasion was required to
make Carlo get into the car and lie down at their feet. He showed a
decided preference for jumping up on the seat between Ruth and Billy,
and once there, for shaking himself vigorously. Billy good-humoredly
protested that he was wet enough, and at last Carlo took the hint to
subside.
Chester cranked the machine, sprang in beside Alec, and they were off,
bowling over the long smooth road at a rate that defied the rural speed
limits.
Alec was an excellent chauffeur, and he handled his big car with skill
and assurance. There was very little traffic on the road at this time of
day, so he had to look out only for an occasional mule-drawn market
wagon driven by a negro in ragged blue “jeans,” or now and then a
swarthy, smiling pedestrian who waved his hat and called out some jolly
greeting, as they flashed by. Ruth was delighted with the ride. When
they had gone two or three miles beyond a small settlement near the
coast, she asked Alec to drive slower so that she might point out to him
some fine fishing grounds between the low-lying keys.
“Dad said there is always good fishing out yonder,” she told him, “and
he ought to know, because he’s very familiar with the shore all the way
from Red Key to Santario. You see, he used to be one of the regular
beach patrol before he was made captain of the Life Saving Station.”
“Is that so?” responded Billy, with interest. “I reckon he could tell us
some great yarns about his experiences.”
“Yes, indeed. I’ll ask him to,” promised Ruth, “when you-all come over
to Red Key and see the station some day.”
“We’ll do that as soon as Hugh comes,” Alec said, pleased with the
suggestion.
“D’you think we could manage to put in a day or two fishing?” ventured
Chester, whose enthusiasm for all kinds of water sports was unbounded.
“Yes, I guess so,” answered Alec.
“Are you boys all Scouts?” Ruth asked after a few minutes, during which
she had listened attentively to reminiscences of their fishing and
canoeing trips at Pioneer Camp. And on being assured that they were, she
continued: “My brother is, too; he belongs to Florida Troop No.—I forget
the troop number, but anyway it’s the Bear patrol. They had a camp near
Okechobee last summer.”
“Where are they now?”
“They’re going to meet at Claynor for a week or two, and then go on an
exploration of the Everglades,” said Ruth. “Perhaps my brother and
you-all will get acquainted one of these days; and that would be fine!”
“What’s your brother’s name?” asked Chester.
“Marcus,” answered the girl; “but everybody calls him Mark.”
“We’d be glad to know him, of course,” said Alec, politely; and Billy
promptly added, “Sure thing, we would.”
Talking thus, they arrived at a place called Five Corners from the fact
that it was the meeting point of five roads, or rather, the point where
two other roads cut into the main highway. Ruth then suggested that they
should set her down, for by taking one of the roads, she could reach Red
Key within an hour, while they could continue their journey to Santario.
But Alec would not consent to this suggestion, and he turned the car
down the road leading to the little village that clustered around the
life saving station.
Arrived there, Ruth introduced the boys to her father, who thanked them
warmly for their bravery and invited them to visit the station early in
the following week.
“The weather is still sort o’ uncertain at this time o’ year, and we may
have storms almost any day,” said Peter Anderson. “Usually they don’t
amount to much along this coast, but you never can tell. Anyway, come
over when you can.”
“We will, thanks,” Alec replied; and after a cordial farewell, the boys
drove away. An hour later they were at Palmdune, where their story had a
sympathetic hearing and they were treated to a bountiful supper before
they went to bed. Billy retired somewhat earlier than the others,
yielding to Mrs. Sands’ advice. He really was more tired than the rest,
and, furthermore, he wanted to write a letter home.
When Alec and Chester went up to the former’s room, which they occupied
together,—Billy was to share the adjoining room with Hugh, later,—they
were not at all sleepy, and they continued their animated discussion of
plans for the next week. Even after he put out the light and jumped into
bed, Alec continued talking, until a soft snore from the other side of
the room showed him that Chester had already fallen asleep. He soon
followed the example, but his mind was not idle, for he dreamed that he
had gone to sea in a big schooner, and was sailing over the blue ocean.
In his dream, the captain of the schooner was talking to him and telling
him what a fine sailor he had become. Presently he invited Alec to
breakfast with him and handed the young mariner a plate of hot buttered
toast and the fin of a shark fried in oil. When Alec had eaten this, the
captain told him to go up on deck and see what the weather was, for the
sea had begun to be rough and the ship to pitch and roll in the trough
of the waves. Alec did so, and to his astonishment he found the foamy
seas tossing and roaring and the officers shouting orders to the men to
take in sail.
Presently there came a terrific crash, the masts went by the board, the
waves dashed over the ship, and Alec found himself tumbling among huge
breakers, until, almost in an instant, he was thrown upon a beach where
he lay helpless, unable to crawl out of the way of the angry waters.
Every moment they threatened to carry him seaward again. In vain he
tried to work his way up the sand dunes with his arms and legs.
Presently down he came—to find himself sprawling on the floor!
“What’s the matter?” exclaimed Chester, awakened by the noise. He sat up
in his bed, looking around in sleepy bewilderment. “What made all that
row?”
“I fell out of bed!” answered Alec dolefully. “I dreamed I was
shipwrecked.”
“I’m glad you’re not,” chuckled Chester. “Get into bed again,—and for
pity’s sake dream of something else.”
Feeling decidedly foolish, Alec, without a word, meekly did as his
friend advised.