"Five, sharp," the landlord informed him.

"Does that foreman on the submarine boat job ever come along this way?"

"Goes right by here on his way home," Mr. Holt informed the boys.

"I'd be glad if you'd introduce us to him," Jack suggested.

"I sartain will," nodded Jabez Holt. "An', ye know, Dave Pollard is
stoppin' at this hotel."

"Oh, he is, eh?" Jack snapped up, eagerly. "Then we'll certainly try
to make his acquaintance to-night."

Hal, too, looked pleased at this prospect. Mrs. Holt again calling,
from the depths of the kitchen, the landlord was forced to hurry off.
He left behind two boys who suddenly fell to planning their futures
with all the rosy enthusiasm of youth. The longer they talked about
the submarine boat, the more both Jack and Hal felt convinced that they
were going to succeed in getting into the work. In fact, both planned
to become great in that special field.

It was a bright July day, one of the kind when the world looks at its
best to young, hopeful minds. Absorbed in their vague but rosy plans,
both boys forgot the flight of time.

They were roused out of their talk, at last, by hearing heavy footsteps
on the gravel close at hand. Looking up, they saw a heavy, broad
shouldered, dark-complexioned youth of about eighteen years. He had a