The day and night of rest, together with the shark oil, had worked wonders with the sore feet and, much to their delight, the little party found that they could travel once more without pain.

After the weary days in the dismal swamp, they rejoiced in the new country they had entered. A broad, white sand beach made walking easy and their eyes were delighted with the ever-changing landscape. Soon they began to come upon signs of human habitation. Now a herd of cows grazing in placid contentment, and later, a little shack perched upon the beach and tenanted by a lone hermit of a fisherman. From him, they learned that they were within fifteen miles of the city of Tampa.

The captain purchased a package of tobacco from the hermit and was soon enjoying the first smoke he had had in many days.

The boys looked longingly at the fisherman's little sloop bobbing at anchor in the cove. They would have liked to have bargained for a passage to Tampa but they had too little money in their pockets to afford such a luxury.

It was nearly noon and the fisherman, with the ready hospitality of his calling, invited them to dinner, an invitation they were not slow to accept.

The meal was simple, but the vegetables tasted delicious after their steady meat diet, and they reveled in the strong, hot, fragrant coffee.

They did not linger long after eating, for they were anxious to reach their journey's end.

When about five miles from the friendly fisherman's, Charley called a halt.

"Listen, and see if you hear anything," he said. "I've been hearing a queer noise for the last ten minutes but maybe it's only my imaginations."

His companions stopped and listened.

"No, it isn't your imagination," the captain declared. "I can hear it, too—a kind of peculiar noise I can't describe."

"It sounds like the soft smacking of a thousand lips," Walter said. "I wonder what it is."

"We will soon find out," Charley replied. "It seems to come from somewhere ahead."

As they advanced, the peculiar noise became more distinct. It grew steadily in volume until at last they stood at what had once been the mouth of a creek, but which was now closed up, at the entrance, by a small mound of drifted sand, thus changing the former creek into a small lake.

"My goodness! Look at it!" gasped Charley, weakly, pointing at the land-locked pond.

"Jumping Moses," swore the captain, the nearest approach to an oath he ever permitted himself to use.

The peculiar noise came from the lake's surface. It was literally covered with tiny, open, gaping mouths.

"Mullet," Charley said, in a hushed voice, "mullet, thousands of them, tens of thousands of them, penned up in there like rats in a trap."

"And we without a net or boat," lamented Walter, bitterly. "Just our luck."

"Golly!" exclaimed Chris. "If we only had dese fish in Clearwater we wouldn't hab to worry 'bout money no more for awhile."

"They must have got caught in here during that gale," Charley pondered. "The heavy sea drifted up the sand and closed up the entrance so they could not get out into the gulf again. They can't live a great while longer in that small body of water. That great number must have about all the oxygen in the water exhausted by now. Their coming to the surface to breathe proves that. They seldom do that surface breathing. Let's have a look at that pond and see what it's like."

A hasty examination showed them that the lagoon was shallow, not more than three feet in the deepest places.

"Just an ideal place to catch them," Charley declared.

"Yes," agreed Walter, excitedly. "If we only had two or three nets we could tie them together and drag them across the pond like a seine."

Charley shook his head, decidedly. "That bunch would tear your nets to shreds if you tried that plan. Why, boy, you don't comprehend how many fish there are in that school."

"Well, I guess it's no use standing here looking at them any longer," said Walter, morosely. "We can't do anything with them, so we might as well be moving on."

"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.

The agent noted the look of dismay on the four faces. "The Northern flier is due here in half an hour," he said, slowly. "She slows down a bit for the curve. If it's a matter of life or death you might be able to board her. I would not advise it, though. She does not slack down much at Clearwater and it would be pretty risky jumping off."

"Where's the best place to get on her?" asked the lad, briefly.

"Right down by the water tank. It's risky, though."

The lad thanked him, and the four hurried off for the water tank.

They boarded the train safely and stood on the platform hanging on to the rails as the fast limited tore on in the darkness. They would have liked to have entered one of the coaches and rested on the cushioned seats but they were afraid the conductor would insist upon carrying them on to the next regular stop, a hundred miles beyond their destination.

It was but an hour's ride to the little town and the flyer barely slackened speed as she thundered into it. As the lights of the station flashed into view, they stepped down to the lowest step and jumped.

It was a fearful chance to take, but luck was with them. They landed in a bank of soft sand, and, although the breath was knocked out of them for a minute, they escaped unhurt except for Walter. He gained his feet, wincing with pain.

"I've twisted my ankle," he said. "Don't stop for me. I would only be a hindrance to you with this game foot. Go on. I'll hunt up a doctor and have it tended to."

Charley hesitated. "I don't like to leave you this way, old fellow," he said.

"I don't like to be left, either," said his chum, grimly, "but you can't do me any good by staying. Go on. Don't waste precious time."

Charley reluctantly obeyed.

Walter stood gamely watching them with a smile on his face until the three were out of sight, then he hobbled for the main street, his face contorted with pain. His injury was far more serious than he had pretended. He was convinced that some bones in his foot were broken but he had concealed his plight from his chums for he knew they would not leave him if they thought his injury at all serious.

Followed by the captain and Chris, Charley headed for the little station not far away. There were a few loungers on the platform and amongst them he was pleased to see one of the fish-boat captains who had helped in the towing of the "North Wind."

"Is it you or your ghost?" he exclaimed, when Charley approached him. "Everyone thought you and your friends were lost in that gale."

"If we are ghosts, we don't know it," Charley laughed. "Say, can we hire you and your launch for a couple of hours?"

"You can," said the fish captain, promptly. "Fishing is so poor now I have quit it for a while. Where do you want to go?"

"First over to the island where we used to stay, and then across to the Roberts camp, if they are at home."

"Oh, you'll find them there all right. Fishing is so poor, now, it does not pay to go out."

Charley pulled out a five-dollar bill, the only money he had in his pocket.

"Here's your pay in advance," he said. "We may want to hire you for two or three days, but I'll let you know about that a little later. Just now, we are in a hurry. Can you take us right off?"

"Right away," said the fisherman, pocketing the bill with satisfaction. "My launch is tied up to the dock. Come on if you are ready."

In five minutes our little party was aboard the launch and headed for the island.

"Reckon there ain't much use going there," the fisherman remarked, as they sped along. "Someone has torn the cabin down and broken the dock you built all to pieces."

Charley smiled. Evidently Hunter had been doing all he could to discourage anyone else from occupying the island.

"We don't intend to live there, any more," he said. "I just want to go ashore there for a minute."

As the launch drew in close to the shore, he had him stop the engine and as soon as the keel touched bottom, he jumped overboard and waded ashore, carrying the launch's lantern.

"Wait here for me. I'll be back in a minute," he directed.

Once up near the cabin, he was not long in finding what he was after. He and his companions had taken in over a hundred dollars in cash from their sales of oysters and clams. It was too large a sum for them to risk carrying around in their pockets and they had not cared to leave it unguarded in the cabin while they were away fishing, so they had wisely put it in a glass jar and buried the jar in a safe place, keeping out only enough for pocket money.

The lad found their little treasure undisturbed and stuffing it into his pockets he hurried back to the launch.

"Now head over for the Roberts camp," he commanded, as soon as he climbed aboard.