A quarter of an hour later the three boys were sitting about the “air-tight” stove in the front room of the little, white, clap-boarded, green-shuttered house that was Jack’s home. They had left the Crystal Spring safely moored in the Cove, with the motor boat swinging astern, dropped into the little dory and paddled ashore. From the little beach up to the Herrick house was but a few yards, and in a trice they were inside, listening to the surprised ejaculations of Aunt Mercy and dripping water onto the immaculate waxed floor of the “passage.” Aunt Mercy Fuller was Jack’s mother’s sister, and ever since Mrs. Herrick had died, when Jack was only four years old, the sharp-voiced, kind-hearted little woman had kept house at the Cove. After the death of Jack’s father, only a year ago, Aunt Mercy’s presence was more indispensable than ever, for Jack’s sister, Faith, was only thirteen, and so, still in school. All of Jack’s dry clothing had been requisitioned and the drafts in the stove opened wide, and now, none the worse for their wetting, the two visitors were recounting their adventures to the household.

Harry Folsom was nearly Jack’s age, being some three months younger. He was like Jack in many ways, for which the fact that each came of an old Greenhaven family was perhaps accountable. Harry’s hair was of quite an ordinary shade of dark brown and his face was not tanned and seasoned by sun and weather. And his eyes were gray instead of brown. But dissimilarity seemed to end there. He was much like Jack in build and weight and he had the same easy, careless swing from the hips when he walked, and the same way of looking straightly and unwinkingly when he talked. Harry’s father was Josiah Folsom, the head of the big fish company of Greenhaven, and a man of much wealth. He and Jack had been together at high school the year before, but last fall Jack had left school to sail the Crystal Spring and Harry, or Hal, as he was called, had entered Norwalk Hall, the big preparatory school some thirty miles distant and just over the line into New Hampshire.

His companion Hal had introduced as Beaman Mansfield. Harry called him Bee and so we might as well do the same. Bee was visiting Harry, it seemed, having arrived with him in Greenhaven only the evening before. They were roommates at school and evidently great chums. Beaman Mansfield was fifteen years of age, slight, tall, black of hair and eye, and almost sallow as to complexion. As Harry narrated their exploits Bee interpolated remarks which, if they were not especially informative, seldom failed to amuse.

“You see,” said Harry, “that launch is a new one. Dad got it for me a week ago and I never saw it until yesterday. This morning we thought it would be a good plan to go for a sail in her. So we filled her tank with gasoline and started out. I’d never run a motor boat before, but Bee said he knew something about the things—”

“I know a heap more now,” observed Bee, gravely.

“So we started. She went finely for about ten minutes and we were down off The Lump. Then she stopped. I told Bee to get busy and find out what the trouble was and he monkeyed around with a wrench and a screw-driver for almost half an hour.”

“I deny it!” exclaimed Bee. “I knew at once where the trouble lay!”

“Yes, you did!”

“I certainly did! It was in the engine.”

“Oh! Well, it took you long enough to dig it out. Anyhow, we got her started again and she went like a breeze; must have made at least twelve miles an hour, Jack, and we were about two miles down the shore when—bing, stopped again!”

“And she’s been ‘binging’ ever since,” murmured Bee.

“By then it was time for lunch. So we rowed ashore near the life saving station and walked up to that little store where the old toll-gate used to be. It’s quite a ways up there.”

“About ten miles,” said Bee thoughtfully.

Jack laughed. “I dare say it seemed that far if you were hungry. It’s about three-quarters of a mile, I guess.”

“Well, we were hungry,” replied Bee. “I was, at any rate. I’d had nothing since breakfast but that nasty yellow cup-grease and gasoline.”

“We bought some crackers and some sardines and two oranges. I’ll bet old man Doonin had had them all for at least six months.”

“I think they were some of his Christmas stock left over,” remarked Bee reflectively.

“They were pretty fierce, anyway, and we decided the best thing to do was to hike home and get a real feed. So we went back to the launch and tried to start her again. But she wouldn’t start—”

“It was another case of ‘bing!’” said Bee.

“And it took us all of an hour to get going. Bee and I took turns at the fly wheel—”

“I beg your pardon?” remarked Bee, sitting up quickly. “Did I understand you to say that we took turns? Allow me to correct you, Hal, I took turns!”

“Well, I like your cheek! My arm’s as stiff as—as—as a board! And it aches every time I move it! I’ll bet I turned that old wheel over two thousand times today; and it weighs a ton, too!”

“What sort of an engine has she got?” asked Jack.

“An eight-horsepower Philbert.”

“I think myself it’s a chestnut,” observed Bee. “And if you think your arm aches, why, I just wish you had mine!”

“Did—did you get the boat started finally?” asked Faith anxiously. The boys laughed, and Faith, a pretty, dark-haired young lady, inclined to be shy, blushed.

“Yes, finally,” answered Hal. “That was about—what time, Bee?”

“About two hours after lunch time,” replied Bee, gloomily.

“Yes, about half-past two, I guess. Then she went pretty well for awhile, although she choked and coughed a good deal—”

“She has consumption,” said Bee, with a shake of his head. “She won’t last long.”

“She stopped once near the outer buoy and again just off the light. And that time Bee said he was going to fix her right and began to take the engine to pieces.”

“It was the only thing to do,” explained Bee gravely to Jack. “Take her to pieces and put her together again.”

“You got her to pieces all right,” continued Hal, “but you couldn’t get her together again.”

“Well, there were two or three small thing-mabobs I couldn’t find places for. I still think she’s just as well without them.”

“All that time we were drifting along the breakwater. We haven’t any anchor yet, you see, and there was no place to tie up to. Then the squall came up while we were trying to get her to start and the first thing we knew we were going out to sea at about a mile a minute.”

“She went faster than she did at any other time all day,” said Bee. “It just showed what fixing the engine did for her.”

“Yes, you ‘fixed’ it all right,” said Hal, sarcastically. “If it hadn’t been for Jack we’d be half-way to Africa by now.”

“I’ve always wanted to see Africa,” replied his chum, calmly. “It must be a very interesting place.”

“Maybe,” laughed Hal, “but I don’t care to go there in an eighteen-foot motor boat. Of course we couldn’t do much when the blow came. We tried to keep her bow into the waves, after we’d found we couldn’t row her, but that was pretty hard work. And after awhile, when we got around Popple Head, we gave that up and put all our strength into shouting. I don’t mind telling you that we were getting sort of scared when you came, Jack.”

“You had a right to be,” said Jack, dryly. “If I hadn’t heard you you’d have had a pretty wet night of it. That wind would have taken you across toward the Isle of Shoals, I guess, if you’d floated long enough. Did you have anything to bail with?”

“Only my cap,” said Bee. “And it wasn’t satisfactory. I told Hal I thought his would have been better.”

“Dear, dear,” murmured Aunt Mercy. “You boys certainly had a narrow escape from death. I hope you won’t ever try anything so silly again.”

“No’m, we won’t,” Hal assured her. “We’re not going out in her again until we have an anchor along.”

“And a tomato can,” suggested Bee.

“A tomato can?” Hal questioned. “What’s that for?”

“To bail with.”

“Why not have a bailer?” laughed Jack.

“All the boats I’ve ever been in,” replied Bee, soberly, “carried empty tomato cans for bailing purposes. I wouldn’t know how to use anything else.”

“And I guess,” said Jack, “you’d better get your engine put together again before you take another trip. It might be that the things your friend couldn’t get back were sort of necessary, Hal.”

“I don’t think so,” said Bee. “Maybe, though. I’m not sure that I know where they are. Did I give them to you, Hal?”

“You did not!” replied Hal indignantly. “And if you’ve gone and lost them—”

“Well, they may be kicking around under the grating somewhere. After we get the water out of her we’ll have a look. I don’t believe, though, we’ll ever find them; they were little trifling things.”

The others laughed and Jack arose and went to a window. It was still raining hard, but the thunder and lightning had passed over and the wind had diminished considerably. The old iron-case clock on the mantel behind the glowing stove said a quarter past five.

“You fellows had better stay and have some supper,” he said. “There’s no use trying to get back in this rain.”

“Oh, much obliged,” said Hal, “but we can get across to the ferry all right. It’s just a little way, isn’t it?”

“About a quarter of a mile. But your clothes aren’t dry, I’m afraid. You’re welcome to wear what you have on, but they don’t fit very well. The best thing to do is to telephone over to your folks that you’re all right and then stay here until your things get dried.”

“We—ll, it’s awfully good of you.” Hal looked inquiringly at his friend. Bee appeared not to see the question. He only sighed comfortably and stretched his long legs farther toward the stove. “If we won’t be too much bother, Miss—Miss Fuller, I guess we’ll stay.”

“You won’t be any bother at all,” Aunt Mercy assured him. “I’ll just tell Susan to cook a little more supper.”

“Let me go, Auntie,” said Faith.

“No, I’ll go. I cal’ate I’d better get down a pot of that barberry preserve.”

“Gee,” laughed Jack, “I wish we had shipwrecked folks to supper every night, don’t you, sis?” and Faith shyly owned that she did. Aunt Mercy pretended to be insulted.

“I cal’ate, Jack Herrick, that you don’t ever suffer for preserves in this house!” she declared.

“No, ma’am, not exactly for preserves. But that barberry preserve—say, sis, we ain’t had any of that since about Christmas, have we?”

“You had some last Sunday night,” returned Aunt Mercy with asperity. “And I’ve a good mind not to give you any, if you can’t remember when you do have it!”

“Quite right, ma’am,” said Bee approvingly. “I think it would be good punishment if you just gave it to the rest of us. I’m sure I shan’t forget it, ma’am!”

Aunt Mercy regarded him severely. “Humph!” she said. “I cal’ate, young man, you don’t miss much in this world for want of a tongue in your head!” Whereupon, with a grim smile, she sailed out of the room.

Hal chuckled. “I guess that will hold you for awhile, old Bee!” Then, turning to Jack, “Did you say you had a telephone here?” he asked.

Jack shook his head. “No, but there’s one at Cottrell’s store, just over the hill. I’ll run over there, if you like, and tell your folks you’ll be home after supper.”

“What’s the matter with my going?” asked Hal. “Let me have your oilskin coat, Jack, and point out the way. I guess I ought to let father know I’m all right. He may be getting worried.”

The two boys went out, leaving Bee and Faith together in the quaint little low-ceilinged room. Bee looked about him with interest. “You’ve got an awfully comfortable home here, Miss Faith,” he said. “It’s so sort of old-fashioned and nice.”

“It’s quite an old house,” said Faith embarrassedly. “Father’s grandfather built it almost a hundred years ago. There wasn’t much of anything on the Neck in those days, they say, except the lighthouse. Do you live around here?”

“No, my home’s in Pennsylvania. I wish I did live around here, though, for I’m crazy about the water and boating and fishing and—”

“And being shipwrecked?” suggested Faith with a laugh.

“N—no,” Bee acknowledged, echoing her laughter, “I guess I can do without that for awhile. I was in a blue funk out there. And—and I’d have been seasick in about another minute, I guess.”

“You were both very foolish to go out in a boat you didn’t understand,” said Faith gravely. “Besides, I never think a motor boat is really safe, anyway, do you?”

“I don’t know. I never was in one until this morning.”

“Why—but I thought you said—you understood them!”

“Oh,” responded Bee carelessly, “I had to say that to get Hal to go out. He wanted to wait and find someone to show him how to run the thing. We’d have lost a lot of valuable time, you see.”

“Oh! You mean that—you aren’t going to be here long and you didn’t want to waste a day?”

“Oh, I shall be around here for a month, probably. My folks have gone abroad and Hal’s going to put me up for as long as I want. I had a chance of going across with the folks, but Hal talked so much about Greenhaven all winter that I thought I’d rather come here. And I’m glad I did, too. I’m going to have a dandy time. Hal’s people are as nice as pie to me. I suppose you know them, Miss Faith?”

“N—no, I don’t. You see—” She paused and Bee waited politely for her to continue. “What I mean,” she went on at last, “is that the Folsoms are very rich people and we’re—we’re not. So, of course, we don’t know them very well.”

“Oh!” Bee considered that a moment. “Well, I like them very much. Hal’s a dandy, too. I didn’t care much for him at first, though. They put us to room together at school and we had a scrap the first night. Then we didn’t speak for two or three days. Then we had another scrap and Hal licked me and after that we were pretty good chums.”

Faith looked puzzled, but she only said, “Oh!” in a doubtful tone, and Bee went on:

“I suppose you and your brother go to school here?” he inquired. “Hal showed me the high school this morning when we came down to the wharf.”

“I go,” replied Faith, “but Jack had to give it up this year. Poor Jack! He hated to do it.”

“Er—you don’t mean—he wasn’t expelled, was he?”

“Jack? Oh, no indeed. But father died a little over a year ago and so Jack thought he ought to go on with father’s business and make money. Father used to be a fisherman and owned his own schooner. Then, when I was about five, he had an accident. He fell and broke one of his legs when he was ’way up off Newfoundland and it wasn’t set right for two weeks because the schooner was in the ice and there wasn’t any doctor around. And then when they finally got him to a doctor it was too late and his leg was never much good afterwards. So he sold his schooner and bought the Crystal Spring and made her into a water boat. You see there’s always been a spring up on the hill just back of our house and father only had to run a line of pipe to the Cove and then fill up the tank and sail around to the harbor and sell the water. He used to sell lots and lots of water a few years ago, but now the fish companies generally supply the water for their boats themselves. And lately two Portuguese men have started a water boat, too, and as their boat has a gasoline engine poor Jack isn’t doing very well. He said the other day he guessed he’d either have to have an engine put in the Crystal Spring or go out of business.” And Faith, a little breathless and more than a little surprised at her unusual loquacity, came to an embarrassed pause.

“That’s too bad,” said Bee sympathetically. “I wouldn’t think there’d be enough business for two water boats here. If I were he I’d certainly put in an engine and see that it was big enough to beat the other fellows!”

“He wants to, but—I guess it costs a good deal,” replied Faith.

“What costs a good deal, sis?” asked Jack as he and Hal returned to the sitting-room.

“An engine for the Crystal Spring,” explained his sister.

“Oh! Yes, it would cost a lot more than I could afford, I guess,” he said gloomily. “But I’ll either have to have one put in or give up. Those Lamprons can beat me every time. Isn’t supper ready yet? I’m starved to death!”

When, a few minutes later, Aunt Mercy summoned them to the little dining room, that supper proved worth waiting for. The visitors declared that they had never been so hungry and had never tasted things half so good, and Aunt Mercy was so pleased that she was positively wasteful with the barberry preserve!

“May I leave the launch here until I can get someone to come over and fix her up?” asked Hal.

“Yes,” Jack answered, “I’ll look after her. She’ll be all right. If I can find time in the morning I’ll get the water out of her. For that matter, maybe I can fix her up for you myself. I know a little about gas engines. I’ll have a look at her if you want me to.”

“I wish you would,” replied Hal gratefully.

“I’ll come over and help you,” said Bee.

“You’ll stay away from her!” exclaimed his chum with energy. “If it hadn’t been for you she’d have been all right.”

“Hear him!” Bee scoffed, appealing to Aunt Mercy. “Why, that silly chug-chug didn’t know the first thing about going until I worked and toiled over her! Of all ungrateful brutes, Hal, you’re the—the limit!”

“I’d have learned how to run her myself,” said Hal amidst the laughter of the rest, “if you hadn’t been so keen on starting out. I wanted to have someone show me about the thing, Jack, but this idiot couldn’t wait. Say, what do you think he wants to do?”

Jack shook his head. “Drown himself, I guess.”

“He wants to go out to Hog Island and hunt for buried treasure!”

Jack laughed, and even Aunt Mercy smiled at the idea, but Faith came to Bee’s defence. “I think that would be lovely,” she approved. “I read a book once—”

“There isn’t anything on Hog Island, I guess,” said Jack, “but rocks and seagulls. You’d better try somewhere else, Mansfield.”

Bee shrugged his shoulders, undisturbed. “I’m not particular about where it is, Herrick. But I certainly don’t intend to spend a month on the coast and not have one good hunt for buried treasure. I’ve always wanted to hunt for buried treasure and now’s the time. I dare say there’s plenty of it around here. There always is. Captain Kidd probably left a few chests of gold and diamonds somewhere about. He was awfully careless, Kidd was, with his treasure. Why, everyone knows that he buried chests of gold all up and down the Atlantic coast!”

“I’ll bet he didn’t bury any on Hog Island,” Jack laughed. “You can’t dig six inches anywhere there without striking solid ledge. I’ve been out there three or four times.”

“Then we won’t go to Hog Island, Hal,” said Bee calmly. “I merely suggested that particular place because it was the first island I saw. We’ll find another one. How about the thing you call The Lump?”

“Just a ledge sticking out of the water,” said Jack. “If you really want to hunt for buried treasure, though, Mansfield, you might have a go at Nobody’s Island.” He smiled across at Hal. “’Most everyone has around here!”