Bubbling over with enthusiasm, he then called a meeting of the club, and laid the plan before them.

"Just the thing!" exclaimed Sam Randall, who had dreamed about the matter all night. "A great idea, eh, Chubby?"

"If there isn't any hard work to do," said Dave, smiling. "Can't help it, boys. I want to loaf this summer."

"You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Dave," said Bob, with mock severity.

"I would be, if my system didn't need rest," laughed Brandon. "What's the matter with you, Dick Travers, and Tom Clifton? What are you so solemn about?"

"Thinking," replied Dick.

"What about?"

"Well, you see, fellows," proceeded Dick, frankly, "a trip like that might take too long. I have to work a part of the vacation. My father isn't astonishingly rich, you know."

"That's my case, exactly," admitted little Tom Clifton.

"Never mind! We'll fix that up some way," said Bob, confidently. "Don't you worry."

Bob went to his father, explained the situation and asked his advice.

Mr. Somers thereupon consulted the two boys, told them that with all five members of the Rambler Club together, he would feel assured of their safety, and hinted, mysteriously, that the financial outlay might not be as heavy as they expected.

At any rate, Tom Clifton and Dick Travers managed to get their parents' consent, and it was, indeed, a happy day when the matter was finally arranged.

"I wish we could go on a flying machine," said Dave Brandon. "Just think of taking a nap on the deck of an aeroplane express; wouldn't that be grand?"

"If you didn't happen to fall off, Chubby," replied one of the others.

"Now the question is, how are we going to make this trip?" observed Sam Randall.

"By boat and train," said Bob.

"And we shall start out in my little sloop?" queried Dave Brandon. "It can carry five, easily."

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