eager as either of the youths to make a start.

"We ought to be ready at least a week from to-day," replied Tom,
"and perhaps sooner."

"Sooner, if you can make it," suggested Mr. Preston. "The steamer
sails a week from to-day, and if you miss that one you'll have to
wait two weeks more."

"Then a week from to-day we'll sail," decided Tom, with emphasis.
"We'll work nights getting things in shape."

Really, though, not much more remained to be done, and the next day
Mr. Preston again went to New York, accompanying a shipment of boxes
and cases that Tom sent on ahead.

The two chums were busy in the aeroplane hangar a few days after
this, nailing up the last of some light cases containing medicines,
personal effects and comforts that would accompany them on their
trip.

"Well, I'm glad of one thing," remarked Tom thoughtfully, as he
drove home the last nail in a box, "and that is that we won't be
bothered with that Andy Foger on this trip. I haven't seen hide nor
hair of him in some time. I guess he and his father are down and
out."

"I guess so. I haven't seen him either."

"Massa Andy were in town a few days ago," ventured Eradicate.