Neither Mrs. Balfour nor Tom’s mother took the time at that exciting moment to explain to the astonished Bob how Mrs. Balfour happened to be in Mrs. Allen’s home. But it was easily explained later. Mrs. Balfour had awakened soon after Bob’s departure for the club meeting. His absence reminded her that he was to meet the boys at three o’clock. She felt under obligations to Tom’s mother for the attention the latter had given her son, and she determined to call at the Allen home at once and express her gratitude.

When the sounds of the conflict became unmistakable, the two women had rushed into the yard together to find Mac Gregory and Bob at the crisis of their encounter.

“And now,” continued Mrs. Allen, with stern dignity, as Mac swaggeringly withdrew toward the rear gate, “what is the real meaning of this disgraceful affair?”

Before Tom could reply, Mac stopped, and, with a sneer, exclaimed:
 
“Ef you uns go campin’, I reckon ye’ll walk. I own the boat—don’t furgit that. Boat an’ ingine, too.”

The countenances of both Tom and Hal fell in despair. Hal started toward the retreating Mac. Mrs. Allen stopped him instantly.

“Hal,” she said firmly, “if you evah have anything moah to do with that wafh trash, please don’t come neah ouah home again. You understand, Tom?” she added. Both boys nodded their heads. Tom tried to smooth matters over.

“All right, mothah. If theah was wrong done, it was Mac—not Bob.” Then he tried to smile. “I reckon that’ll be about all o’ the Anclote Club.”

Expressions of keen disappointment marked the faces of all the boys. Left to themselves, they would, undoubtedly, have fought the quarrel to a finish, and then shaken hands all around rather than give up their beloved organization. Even Mac felt this. The young rowdy was lingering at the gate. He took a step back into the yard.

“Mrs. Allen,” began Mac, half apologetically, “I shorely didn’t know he was the boy ’at drug me from the bay. I’m sorry—”
 
“Mac,” Mrs. Allen answered, without relenting, “it’ll take moah than words to show me you ah fit to associate with gentlemen. I shall instruct mah son to have no futhah intercourse with you.”

“Is that so?” sneered Mac. “Well, he won’t have no chanst. An’ what’s more, he’ll be sorry he let this ‘sissy’ break up the club. I reckon they ain’t agoin’ to be no club without no boat.”

Mrs. Allen made no reply, but she took a step toward the bragging Gregory. The “expelled” member of the club turned and fled. He did not wait to unlatch the picket gate. With an agile bound, he cleared the fence and scurried down the alley.

Mrs. Allen conducted her guest and the boys into the house, where Tom told in detail what had happened. The verdict of Mrs. Allen and Mrs. Balfour as to Mac was reiterated. Neither Tom nor Bob were to have anything more to do with young Gregory, and Hal was given the option of choosing between Mac and the other boys. This decision was instant. Mac’s conduct he could not excuse.

“The club’ll stick together—boat or no boat—” volunteered Hal. “If we can’t do anything[61] else, we can sail over to Santa Rosa every Saturday in a hired boat.”

Mrs. Balfour began to feel embarrassed when she saw the trouble Bob had caused. At last, she said:

“I don’t see why your outing has to be abandoned just because you’ve expelled a bully.”

“But he owns the boat,” explained Tom. “We could go to the camp on the train, but campin’ near the watah without a boat ain’t nothin’ at all.”

“Can’t you get a boat of your own?” asked Mrs. Balfour. “There seem enough of them about here.”

Tom and Hal smiled. Mrs. Allen looked embarrassed.

“Boats that are fun cost money,” explained Hal; “and all our money is in the engine in Mac’s boat.”

“Would Captain Romano’s boat be ‘fun’?” asked Mrs. Balfour suddenly.

The three boys looked at her in surprise.

“Captain Joe want ten dollars a day for the Three Sisters,” continued Hal. “That’s the answer to that.”

Mrs. Balfour spoke in a low voice to Mrs. Allen for some minutes. Mrs. Allen seemed[62] protesting against a suggestion. In spite of this, Bob’s mother at last turned to the boys again.

“Young gentlemen,” she began, “I wasn’t at all anxious for Bob to undertake these week-end outings, although, likely enough, they may be just what he needs. I even objected to them. But now, since he seems to have been the cause of so much trouble, I want the club to carry out its program. Since he has caused you to lose your boat, he’ll provide another. I will consider it a favor if the club will permit me to provide a new boat.”

The long faces of three despairing boys rounded out in beaming smiles.

“Ah reckon maybe we could find some sort o’ craft ourselves,” began Tom, with an instant burst of southern pride.

“Mebbe a skiff would do,” suggested Hal with a feebler show of protest.

“No,” continued Mrs. Balfour, “I ask it as a favor—for Bob. I want you boys to charter Captain Romano’s Three Sisters and make it the club boat. I’ll feel better satisfied anyway, for the captain is an old sailor—”

“Do you mean it?” shouted Bob impulsively,[63] throwing his arms about his mother’s neck. “Hurrah for you, mother—you’re a brick.”

Before the amused Mrs. Allen and Mrs. Balfour could stop them, the three boys shot out of the parlor and were off for the wharf. Captain Joe was found, but a charter of this kind was an important transaction—calling for more than the assurance of three exuberant youngsters.

A few minutes later, the bronzed sailor was before Mrs. Balfour, and the contract was closed. The day was Wednesday. At the close of school on Friday, the Three Sisters was to embark the three boys, their stores and equipment, and sail for Perdido Bay. The distance down Pensacola Bay, out between the forts and then along the gulf coast to the mouth of the Perdido and then up those winding waters to the camp site, was not less than forty miles.

The voyage might be completed that day or not, as the wind served. But, after reaching the camp, Captain Joe was to take station there until further orders at fifty dollars a week. Monday morning, Tom and Hal would be carried by the schooner to the village of Mill View in time to catch the early train across country for school.
 
“Unless Mrs. Allen and I take a notion to come out to the camp in mid-week,” said Mrs. Balfour, with a laugh, “Bob can come in each Monday with the other boys. Captain Joe will remain in camp ready to cruise where you like each Saturday and Sunday.”

Tom looked at Mrs. Balfour in an embarrassed way.

“It sounds big, the way we all been a talkin’ ’bout ouah camp. But I assuah you, madame, ’at it ain’t much of a camp—leastways not as to the cabin. We’ll be proud to have you and mothah come ovah an’ see us, but I hope yo’ won’t expec’ much. It wasn’t made fo’ ladies.”

“Perhaps that’s the reason we ought to go,” suggested Mrs. Allen, with a laugh. “But don’t be alarmed,” and she looked at Mrs. Balfour knowingly, “there are mosquitoes enough in town.”

“There ain’t a mosquito on Perdido,” asserted Tom stoutly. “Nor nothin’ else that’s wrong.”

When Mrs. Balfour and Bob finally took their leave, the boy caught his parent affectionately by the arm.

“Mother,” he said, with feeling, “it’s fine[65] for you to do what you’ve promised, but it’s going to cost a lot of money. What will Father say?”

“Bob,” said his mother, thoughtfully, “when I saw how much brute strength and vigor counted for in that Gregory boy, I realized, for the first time, how much any young man is handicapped by physical weakness. Your father has the means to buy you all the fresh air you need. He will say I did right.”

“I’ll make him say it,” exclaimed Bob stoutly. “Before two months have gone by, if Mac wants to tackle me again—”

His mother put her hand over his mouth.

“You’ll be strong enough and manly enough,” she concluded for him, “to teach him better manners without fighting.”

That evening and the next afternoon and evening were busy ones for the three members of the Anclote Boat Club. Captain Joe being well satisfied with his bargain, he placed the Three Sisters immediately at the disposal of the young adventurers. Tom and Hal produced an alarming quantity of baggage: fishing rods, old and rusted fish supply boxes and reels, an ancient shot gun, blankets and partly worn out counterpanes of marvelous pattern in color and form, old clothes, hats, and shoes, and from Mrs. Allen—several baskets of preserved fruits, jams and jellies.

The enthusiastic Tom and Hal carried to the waiting schooner pretty much everything that could be secured without the expenditure of money. Hal had only the meagre remnant of his allowance in cash, and Tom confessed at once that he was devoid of funds.

“Your mothah has kindly provided the main thing,” explained Tom to Bob. “Hal has enough money to buy the only othah necessities—some flour, tea, coffee, lard, butter, salt and oil for the stove. If he has anything left, we’ll get some pork and bacon. But they don’t count—we don’t actually need ’em. We live on fish, crabs, oystahs, terrapin and,” dropping his voice, “maybe a little venison, if we get to hankerin’ after fresh meat. After we get goin’, we’ll trade fish and crabs for more supplies at Mill View.”

The Three Sisters soon resembled a museum. What appealed strongly to Bob was Captain Joe’s kitchen. In the cockpit astern was a little two-foot square brick hearth. On this, Skipper Romano carried a stove when needed—a little three-legged charcoal brazier. And since Captain[67] Joe’s meals seldom included more than bread and one savory stew, the equipment was quite sufficient. Coffee he made when his stew pan was set aside.

Mrs. Balfour would have been glad to provide Bob with money to materially increase the somewhat scanty stock of provisions, but she had no desire to draw attention to her son’s ampler means, and she suggested sparing purchases on Bob’s part. The other boys consented to a slight addition to the larder in the way of an extra supply of flour and some ham and bacon. But with those articles, all agreed that the provisions on hand were ample.

But, when it came to Bob’s personal equipment, his new chums were enthusiastic and generous advisers. The customary outfit of clothing was waved aside with scorn. The things that appealed to Tom and Hal were the articles they had not been able to own. On these things, they helped Bob spend his money freely.

“We can all use ’em,” was Hal’s excuse.

A short heavy rod and a large reel for big fish was the first purchase and a keen hunting and fish knife in a leather case was the second. Then came the selection of an eight-shot automatic revolver and a weighty package of cartridges.[68] The fifteen dollars expended for this made a deep hole in Bob’s funds, but he explained to his mother that no camp would be safe without this modern firearm.

After that there were shells for the club shotgun, a new camera, at Mrs. Balfour’s suggestion, a set of gulf coast hydrographic charts, a safety camp axe, an electric flash light, a pocket compass, two new skillets, a boiling and a coffee pot to take the place of the rusted utensils in camp, and finally—although Hal pronounced it a waste of money—a new outfit of camp plates, cups, forks, knives and spoons.

Mrs. Balfour looked somewhat doubtfully at the list of hardware when Bob submitted it—the total was a little over eighty dollars—but she finally sanctioned it.

The excitement of the past week was like a tonic to the not too strong northern boy. His flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes were reward enough to his anxious mother. She joined in Bob’s enthusiasm and the next morning kept him company on his trips to the schooner, Tom’s home and the “sporting goods” stores.

On one of these trips, his mother awaiting him at Mrs. Allen’s home, Bob came squarely upon Mac Gregory lounging near Captain Joe’s[69] schooner. Bob was too happy to harbor any resentment. He nodded his head and spoke pleasantly. Mac looked at him contemptuously.

“I’ve heard all about it,” he said, with a sneer. “Purty soft fur the kids. Ye got nothin’ but coin, I understand, an’ the boys ur workin’ ye to a queen’s taste. I don’t blame ’em. But don’t furgit, Son,”—he didn’t say “sissy” this time—“the little old boat club ye’ve bought don’t own Perdido Bay. Me an’ my boat is likely to show up there any time. An’ when we do, give us a wide berth, ur somebody’s goin’ to git hurt. Understand?”

“Perfectly,” answered Bob. “I’m glad to be ‘worked’—by Tom and Hal. You’ll notice you aren’t getting the benefit of a nickel. As for givin’ you a ‘wide berth’, you’ll get it when it’s comin’ to you. And don’t forget, Son,” concluded Bob, stepping up to the young bully and facing him squarely, “if ever you try to make me or my friends any trouble, and I get close enough to you I’ll bend your ugly face in till it breaks.”

The astonished Mac could only gasp in surprise.

“Ye will, eh?” he managed to exclaim, in his best sneering tone. “Well, ye’ll have the[70] chanst, I reckon, an’ I’ll just tip it off to you private—Mac Gregory is a goin’ to bust up the Anclote Boat Club. Tell that to Mr. Allen and Mr. Burton, with my regards.”

A little after three o’clock, a happy party made its way out to Captain Romano’s schooner, Mrs. Balfour and Mrs. Allen being present to wish the eager argonauts bon voyage.

“What’s all this?” exclaimed Tom Allen, rushing forward, as the crowded deck of the Three Sisters came into view.

Snugly stowed amidships was a large white bundle of canvas, some tent ropes, poles and pegs, two new spring cots and a fat parcel bound with ropes.

Mrs. Balfour and Mrs. Allen laughed.

“Didn’t you all invite us to visit you?” asked Mrs. Allen, smiling.

“Sure,” responded Hal. “But what’s all this truck?”

“Our beds,” laughed Mrs. Balfour. “Take good care of them. You’ll find sheets, blankets, pillows—”

“And mosquito nets,” interrupted Mrs. Allen.

“—in the paper bundle,” added Bob’s mother, immensely pleased over their joke.
 
“Yas ’em,” came an unctuous voice from among the litter on the deck, “dey’ll be waitin’ fo’ yo’, Mrs. Allen. Ah’ll se to dat mahsef,” and Jerry Blossom’s black face showed a happy smile above the deck cargo.