All that day and the next they were stormbound.  Of course, Jerry could not be kept idle.  Fishing was out of the question during such a blow, but he discovered that there was plenty of game to be had with Frank’s shotgun.  Ducks could be obtained in any number, such as they were.  Frank tried skinning them to get rid of the fishy flavor, and found it answered splendidly.  Coots, treated in the same way, afforded a very palatable stew.

Then on the mainland, where Jerry managed to go by aid of the dinghy, he was lucky enough to stir up several bevy of quail, from which he took fair toll.

Meanwhile Bluff, seized with a sudden sense of his duties as the owner of a repeating shotgun, hied him away along the protected inner shore of the key, and managed to gather in a full dozen snipe and shore birds of various species, some of which proved to be very delicious.

So they passed the time away, making merry, as care-free lads will.  Often Frank and Jerry talked mysteriously together, while little Joe was busily engaged about the fire.  Undoubtedly the two good-hearted boys were trying to hatch up some sort of scheme whereby the youngster might be benefited.

On the third day they determined to start out.  The sea had gone down to decent proportions, with a promise of several fair days ahead, as is always the case after a norther has cleared the atmosphere.  Besides, their time was nearing an end, and they must get closer to Cedar Keys.

A long day’s run was taken, and as they sought a snug harbor that afternoon the solemn face of Frank assured his chums that they were near the end of their delightful winter vacation.

“If you look over yonder, fellows,” said Frank as they drifted slowly toward the harbor that had been selected for the night’s anchorage, “you’ll see something that will tell you the city on the key is close at hand.  To-morrow we will wind up our little cruise, I’m sorry to say.”

A groan greeted this announcement, although they had suspected that such an ending to their happy time was imminent.

Jerry reluctantly raised the marine glasses.

“Yes, it’s a fact, fellows,” he said slowly.  “I can see the wharves and some of the boats, as well as church steeples.  That’s Cedar Keys, all right.”

“Then this is our last night in camp.  Well, boys, don’t let’s get the blues.  We’ve had a bully good time, and will never forget what has come our way.  Why, the rescuing of the wrecked balloonists alone paid us for coming,” said Will.

They found plenty of water, and anchored in the mouth of the famous Suwanee River, with the busy city something like twelve miles away.

Once more they went ashore, and on the bank of the stream of which they had so many times sung they built their last campfire and put up their tent.

“Lucky we bundled those things in before leaving that camp, when searching for the lost balloonists,” said Will, who was figuring on getting a picture of the scene in the morning, to finish up his series.