lines of my sloop.”

“We’ll go down and take a look with great pleasure,” Jack Benson agreed,
rising. “And I’m glad, sir, that you’re able to show us more courtesy than
we were able to offer you to-night.”

“Oh, that was all right,” declared their host, smiling good-humoredly.
“Rules are rules, and you have your owners to please. No hard feelings on
that score, I assure you.”

Curtis led the way through a dark yard down to a pier. Moored there lay a
handsome white sloop, some forty-two feet in length—a boat of a good and
seaworthy knockabout type.

“This is a sloop, all right,” Jack agreed, cordially. “Rather different
from the lumbering fishing craft hereabouts.”

“Oh, hah, yum!” yawned Hal, at which Curtis shot a quick glance at him.

“Come on board,” invited Curtis, stepping down to the deck of the craft.
“Let me show you what a comfortable cruising cabin I have.”

“Hi, oh, yow!” yawned Hal, again. “Jack, I think I shall enjoy my rest
to-night.”

“Same case here,” agreed Benson, stifling a yawn that came as though in
answer to Hal’s.

“I won’t keep you long, gentlemen, if I am boring you,” agreed their host,
amiably. “Now, I’ll go below first and light up. So! Now, come down and