The Motor Boys on the Pacific | Page 3

cruising about the
everglades and adjacent rivers and lakes. He was in his houseboat
Wanderer, traveling for his health. Mr. Seabury owned a large hotel in
Florida and his meeting with the boys, especially with Jerry, was a
source of profit to Mrs. Hopkins.
She owned some land in Florida; but did not consider it of any value. It
developed that it adjoined Mr. Seabury's hotel property and, as he
wished it to enlarge his building, he purchased the lot for a goodly sum.
The three boys, after the return of the Dartaway and Wanderer from the
strange waters, had stopped for a week at Mr. Seabury's hotel, before
journeying north.
"I'd like to see them again," said Bob, after a pause, during which the
boys turned into the street leading to the depot.
"Who?" asked Ned.
"The Seabury family."
"Mr. Seabury-- or-- er-- the girls?" asked Jerry.
"All of 'em," replied Bob quickly.
"I had a letter the other day," remarked Jerry quietly.
"You did!" exclaimed Ned.

"From them?" asked Bob eagerly.
"Well, it wasn't exactly a family letter," answered Jerry, with just the
suspicion of a blush. "It was from Nellie, and she said she, her sisters
and father were going to lower California."
"To California?" exclaimed Bob and Ned.
"Yes; for Mr. Seabury's health. You know they said they expected to
when we parted from them. The climate of Florida did not do him any
good, and they are going to try what California will do. She asked us to
call and see them, if we were ever in that neighborhood."
"I guess our chances of going to California are pretty slim," remarked
Bob. "Our motor boat's gone now, and we can't make any more
cruises."
"I don't see what that's got to do with it," declared Ned. "We couldn't
very well cross the continent in her, even if we had the Dartaway, and
she was rather too small to make the trip by water, even if the Panama
Canal was finished."
"Oh, well, you know what I mean," retorted Bob, who did not exactly
know himself. "We can't go anywhere right away. School opens soon,
and it's buckle down and study all winter I suppose. But--"
Bob's remarks were interrupted by the arrival of the Boston Express,
which rumbled into the Cresville station, where the boys now were and,
after a momentary stop, steamed on again. A man leaped from the steps
of a parlor car and ran into the freight office, first, however, looking up
and down the length of the train to see if any other passengers got off.
"He seems in a hurry," observed Ned.
"Yes, and he must have some pull with the railroad, for the Boston
Express never stops here," said Jerry. "Maybe he's the president of the
road."

The boys kept on to the freight office. When they reached it they found
the stranger in conversation with Mr. Hitter, the agent. The chums
could not help overhearing the talk.
"Have you several packages here, addressed to X. Y. Z., to he held until
called for?" the stranger asked.
"There they be," replied the agent, pointing to several small boxes,
piled near the door.
"That's good," and the man seemed much relieved. "Now I want them
shipped by fast freight to San Francisco, and I want to prepay them so
there will be no delay. How much is it?" and he pulled out a
pocketbook, disclosing a roll of bills. As he did so he hurried to the
door and looked up and down the depot platform, as if afraid of being
observed. He saw the three boys, and, for a moment, seemed as if he
was about to hurry away. Then, with an obvious effort, he remained,
but turned into the freight office and shut the door.
"He acts as if he was afraid we would steal something from him," said
Bob.
"Or as if he didn't want us to hear any more about those boxes,"
supplemented Jerry. "He's a queer customer, he is."
"Well, it's none of our affair," remarked Ned, but neither he nor his
chums realized how, a little later, they were to take part in an adventure
in which the mysterious man and the queer boxes were to figure
importantly.
In a short time the man came out of the freight office. He did not look
at the boys, but hurried off down the street, putting some papers into
his pocket book, which, the boys could not help noticing as he passed
them, was not so full of money as it had been.
"Let's go in and ask Mr. Hitter what to do about our boat," suggested
Ned.

They found the agent counting over a roll of bills.
"Been robbing a bank?" asked Bob cheerfully. "Guess I'd better tell