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"Are we going on now!" said Dexter at last. "What for?" asked Bob, as he lay upon his back, with his head in a tuft of heath. "I don't know." "What's the good of going on? What's the good o' being in a hurry?" "I'm not in a hurry, only I should like to get to an island where there's plenty of fruit." "Ah, we shan't get to one to-day!" said Bob, yawning.
"No indeed," replied Larry Dexter. "But this air game is getting to be so important, especially the army and navy end of it, that my paper decided we ought to have an expert of our own to keep up with the times. So they assigned me to the job, and I'm learning how to manage an aircraft. I guess the paper figures on sending me out to scout in the clouds for news.
They stand 'em up against a wall down there in Mexico and shoot 'em just for fun so Walky Dexter says. Dad says he never expects to hear of Uncle Brocky alive ag'in." "And yet that girl keeps up her pluck! She's all right," declared the other. "Gee! suppose she should come smack upon the story of her father's death some night there in the readin'-room? Wouldn't that be tough?"
This, too, had been for some time the intention of Prince Maurice. A plan for this work had already been sent into the place, and a distinguished English engineer, Ralph Dexter by name, arrived with some able assistants to carry it into execution.
"How was I to kill 'em first?" snarled Bob, as he sat tailor fashion and poked the cray-fish into warmer places with a piece of burning stick. "Stuck your knife into them." "Well, wouldn't that have hurt 'em just as much?" "Let them die before you cooked them." "That would hurt 'em ever so much more, and took ever so much longer." "Well I shan't like to eat them," said Dexter. "More for me, then.
"Yes, of course we are, stoopid; but you can't make fortunes without money. You can't ketch fish if yer ain't got no bait." This was a philosophical view of matters which took Dexter aback, and he faltered rather as he spoke next, this time with his ears dry, his hair not so very wet, and his jacket buttoned up to his chin. "I'm very sorry, Bob," he said gently. "Sorry!
The man slowly waded out while the keeper trampled on the fire, stamping all over it, to extinguish the last spark, so that it should not spread, and then they separated, going in different directions. "Row, Bob; row hard," cried Dexter, who was in agony. "Well, I am a-rowing, ain't I? We warn't doing no harm." "Let me have an oar."
"She told us all Monday night at Peter's that the doctor had prescribed sleeping medicine.... Now, you look here, Bonnie Dundee!" she cried out sharply, answering an enigmatic smile on the detective's face, "if you think Flora Miles killed Nita Selim and Dexter Sprague, because she was in love with Dexter and learned he was Nita's lover from that silly note " "Whoa, Penny!" Dundee checked her.
Dexter had rapidly lowered himself into the black deep stream and was swimming hard and fast, for as he rose and sought for his garments he suddenly recalled the fact that he had turned the box into a tiny barge, laden it with his clothes, and placed them in the river, while now, as he went to take them out, he found that the stream had borne the box away, and it was going down toward the sea.
The exercise and the rising sun sent warmth and brighter thoughts into Dexter, so that he was better able to undertake the task of searching the holes for cray-fish when the boat was brought up under a suitable bank, and urged on by Bob he had to undress and take an unwilling bath, and a breakfast-hunt at the same time.
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