hem off this time," said Tom, yet this was by no means
certain, it depending somewhat on the quickness of the trip made by
the lumber schooner. The _Mascotte_ was by no means a first-class
steamer, and it had been a question, the day before the voyage was
undertaken, if she had not better be laid up for repairs to her engine
and boilers. But of this our friends knew nothing.

As soon as the trip was begun Dick and Harold Bird had an interview
with the captain of the steamer and told the latter how anxious they
were to get track of the _Dogstar_. To their dismay, however, the
captain proved to be anything but agreeable and said he could not
bother himself over their personal affairs, even when offered pay to
do so.

"He's a regular lemon," said Tom. "I don't think he'd do a favor for
anybody."

"And this steamer is a tub," answered Sam. "I shouldn't wish to travel
very far in her."

Yet with it all the boys felt in pretty fair spirits as they gathered
on the deck and talked matters over. But in less than an hour they
were in open rebellion.

They went to the dining room for dinner and were served with food
that was scarcely fit to eat. As they had paid for first-class
accommodations all found fault.

"Waiter, bring me some meat that isn't burnt," said Sam.

"And bring me some that is fresh," added Harold Bird.

"And bring me a cup of coffee that is worth more than ten cents a
pound," came from Songbird. "This is nothing but mud."

"Even this bread is next door to being sour," said Fred.

"Yah, dis vos der vorst tinner vot I efer see alretty!" was Hans'
comment. "I vos make a kick py der cabtain, ain't it!"

"Sorry, gen'men," said the waiter. "But dat meat am de best we have,
an' dar ain't no udder kind ob coffee an' bread, sah!"

"Whose fault is it, the cook's or the captain's?" asked Tom.

At this question the waiter shrugged his shoulders. Then he leaned
over and whispered into Tom's ear.

"Wish yo' would make a kick--I hates to serve sech food--'deed I does!"

The boys left the table half hungry and so did the other passengers.
Dick walked up to one of the others.

"Don't you think we ought to make them serve us with better food?"
he asked, flatly.

"I do, sir," was the answer of the passenger. "But the cook said it
was the best he had. He said we might go to the captain or to anybody
we please. He is going to leave the boat when we arrive at Tampa."

Without more ado Dick, Harold Bird, and abou