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.