"As being far better than our first plan," applauded Billy.
The other boys agreed enthusiastically, and the details were promptly arranged.
Early the next morning, as the arching sky and gray waters began to take on a rosy glow from the approaching sunrise, the automobile shot out of the driveway between the palms and down the shell road in the direction of Red Key, carrying Alec and Chester to meet Mark Anderson.
The whir of the motor drowned the twitterings of the awakening birds, but could not dull the fresh odor of the jasmine, nor the beauty of the flowering vines and dew-wet hedges.
Even Chester was stirred by the "newness" of the whole world.
"Cripes, Alec, as Captain Vinton would say, this morning air and the view are worth crawling out at an unearthly hour to enjoy!" he exclaimed. "That ocean looks about a million miles wide, too; you can't even tell where the sky begins."
"There is Mark!" was Chester's next comment as the machine swung around a curve that had hidden an intersecting road.
"'Morning, Mark," called Alec in greeting as the two boys jumped out of the car to join the waiting lad. "Now we're off!"
He turned to the chauffeur, assuring himself that the man understood the directions for reaching their camp with supplies late that afternoon, and then fell into step with the other scouts for their all-day hike. Beneath their feet the broken shells of the road crackled, overhead the towering palms waved, near the roadside the stiff grass bent noisily in the breeze, and around them momentarily day grew clearer and brighter.
As the morning advanced and the boys strode on nearing the pine woods, robins and bluebirds, shrikes and chewinks greeted them; and as they stopped for luncheon near a broad, open trail in the barren woodland a buzzard sailed above the tree-tops and peered at them curiously.
In the meantime Norton, Hugh and Billy had started promptly twenty minutes after the departure of the machine. Billy was in high spirits and declared that he scented adventure in the air. For an hour, however, nothing occurred to disturb the peaceful sway of Nature, and Billy was about to abandon his attitude of expectation.
Suddenly the stillness was broken by the uneven rattle of rapidly moving wheels over the shell road. Then the clatter of pounding hoofs further shattered the silence.
"It comes!" shouted Billy dramatically. Around a bend in the road came a galloping white horse, old and lean, dragging at its heels a reeling hurdy-gurdy cart.
Billy sprang for the horse's head. Almost at his touch the old creature stopped submissively.
"The poor old nag is all in," said Billy sympathetically, patting her quivering neck.
Meanwhile Hugh and Roy Norton had righted the music cart, and Hugh impulsively seized the handle of the machine and turned it to test its condition.
"Hi—-yi—-yi!"
A dark-skinned foreigner came into sight, running toward them down the road.
He frowned at them darkly and dashed up to the old horse, swinging a short whip threateningly. Before the lash could fall on the still trembling beast, however, Hugh and Billy had sprung simultaneously upon the man.
"None of that!" cried Hugh, wresting the whip from the man's grasp.
The infuriated foreigner turned upon him with an avalanche of rapid words, struggling to break away from his captors.
At that Norton stepped into view before him. With a few gestures, a few faltering Italian and French words, and with great calmness and good nature, he managed to tell the man that his wagon was safe, and that the boys were willing to let him go if he would not beat the poor, tired, old horse.
Norton's manner, more than anything else, impressed the angry man. His scowls gave way to a pleasant expression and he nodded smilingly. The boys stepped back and the hurdy-gurdy driver busied himself at once, testing the harness and wheels and even patting the thin old nag.
Then he climbed upon his seat and gathered up the reins. Hugh picked up the fallen whip and handed it to him. The dark foreigner smiled suddenly and, reaching over, put the whip into its socket. Then, clucking to his horse, he moved slowly down the road.
"Well, what do you think of that?" cried Billy, puzzled at the sudden capitulation.
"That?" returned Norton. "That is a bit of southern Europe—-tempest and sunshine, rage and child-like faith combined."
"Like a small boy, he needed to be managed," said Hugh, "and you knew how to do it."
With a new respect for Roy Norton, the two scouts joined him again on their inland hike. But they did not forget the incident, nor did they fail to relate it that evening to the other three boys, whom they found already established at camp around a blazing fire.
The next morning the returning parties exchanged routes for the homeward trip, but nothing more exciting was encountered than glimpses of orange groves, of pine barrens, of cypress swamps, and of numberless birds.
But their "hiking muscles" had been well exercised and they felt nearer to the heart of Florida because of their long tramp.
There were a number of letters waiting for the boys, some from their home people and others from the scouts who were enjoying the "Geological Survey" at Pioneer Camp. These the boys shared, eagerly discussing the news and wondering what plans would be made for the fall and winter.
Some of the things that actually did happen the following fall are related in "The Boy Scouts of the Flying Squadron."
End of Project Gutenberg's The Boy Scouts on Picket Duty, by Robert Shaler