When breakfast had been dispatched in the morning, for the last time the four outdoor chums took down the dear old khaki tent and folded it away reverently.  They looked upon it as a friend and comforter indeed.

Then they went aboard the Jessamine, and started for the city, which could be seen upon the key, over the gleaming, sun-kissed water of the gulf.

They arrived long before noon, and leaving the boat in the hands of the party to whom Frank bore a letter from his cousin, the four chums accompanied little Joe to his modest home.

Here the delightful news was broken to the widow of Mr. Langdon’s old boyhood friend.  Words would be useless to describe her joy.  The clouds had rolled away as if by magic, and at last she could see a happy future for herself and her family, marred by only one keen regret, and that the absence of the brave man who had died at his post years before.

Our boys spent a couple of days in Cedar Keys.  Letters were found there from the home folks.  At last they started north once more, to resume their school duties, satisfied that they had enjoyed the finest vacation in all their experience.

Their work in saving the lost balloonists was spoken of in the papers, for the professor would never forget what he owed them.  He even took pains to write to Mr. Langdon and praise the conduct of the boys.

Safely landed again in Centerville, and once more taking up their school work, we shall have to part from the boys.

“Well, it was a great outing!” declared Will.

“Talk to me about good times!” came from Jerry.  “We never had a better.”

“Right you are,” added Frank.  “And the photos are all dandy.”

“They’ll certainly be fine, to keep and look over in years to come,” remarked Will.

And here we will take leave of the Outdoor Chums and say good-by.