Taking care not to strike one of the line of ledges that almost closes the mouth of Camden harbor, they ran in and dropped anchor. From the rocks the picnickers waved white handkerchiefs and called to them. They responded in a similar manner, with a strange lightness and exultant feeling in their hearts. Even Bruce Browning showed enthusiasm, for he could not help imbibing some of the spirit of the occasion.

The sails came down with a rattle and were properly and carefully taken care of, a task that consumed time. Then every line was coiled and put in its proper place, and nothing was neglected, so that when Frank's orders had been obeyed, everything about the yacht was ship-shape and in order.

Not till he had seen things in order did Frank think of leaving the sloop. Then he asked who would stay on board and who wished to go ashore. Diamond and Hodge were eager to go ashore. Browning and Dunnerwust expressed a willingness to go later, so three of the crew entered the small boat and pulled away up toward the distant wharves at the head of the harbor.

They rowed up to a float beside a wharf. Twenty other boats floated about the platform, and a boy was watching them.

"May we land here?" asked Frank.

"Well, I dunno," said the boy, doubtfully. "Ye see, these bo'ts are to let. Might let yourn if some folks come along an' wanted it."

The boy grinned as he finished speaking.

"We might come back and want our boat only to find it gone," said Hodge. "Let's not leave it here, Merriwell."

The boy gave a jump.

"What's your name?" he almost shouted, looking straight at Frank.

"It's Frank Merriwell," was the reply.

"Frank Merriwell!" yelled the boy, dancing up and down. "Whoop! I heard you was in Rockland! My goodness! won't the fellers be tickled to see you in this town! There ain't a chap here that don't know all about ye! Jest you let me have yer painter! I'll take care of that bo't, an' there don't nobody touch it, you bet!"

"Thank you," laughed Frank. "I will pay you for your trouble."

"Not by a jugful! Think I'd take any pay of you? No, sir-ee! I'd set right here on this float an' watch your bo't for a week 'thout eatin' or sleepin', an' never charge you a cent! I never 'spected to live to see Frank Merriwell! Oh, Jingoes! won't the fellers be glad to see ye!"

The boy took charge of the boat. Just then another boy came onto the wharf, and the boat boy saw him.

"Hey, there, Bennie!" he yelled. "What d'yer know? You can't guess it in a year! He's come!"

"Who's come?"

"Frank Merriwell! Here he is!"

The jaw of the boy on the wharf dropped, and he stood staring, open-mouthed at Frank. For some moments he seemed awe stricken, and then, of a sudden, he turned and ran as if for his life, quickly scudding out of sight.

"He acted as if he were scared of you, Merry," said Diamond.

"He's gone to tell t'other fellers in town," explained the boat boy.

"Say," laughed Frank, "this is getting altogether too interesting! I'd rather not be so well known."

"Well, you can't help it," said Hodge. "They've all heard of you down this way."

"And I had an idea they never heard of anything away down here!" exclaimed Jack. "My ideas of this part of the country are completely upset."

"Let's hurry into town," urged Frank. "If we wait, it's ten to one we'll be escorted by a gang of my admirers. I haven't forgotten Rockland."

So they left the wharf and hastily walked up Bay View Street. Just as they reached the bank building at the public square they saw a dozen small boys coming down Elm Street on the run, headed by the one who had disappeared so suddenly from the wharf.

The moment the running boys saw Merriwell and his companions, they halted and huddled around the leader, who pointed at the three strangers in the place, yelling:

"There he is, fellers!"

Frank laughed outright, and Hodge and Diamond smiled. The excitement of the boys had attracted more or less notice, and the people on the streets looked at the three young yachtsmen with interest.

It was the height of the season at Camden, and the town was literally gorged with summer visitors from every part of the country, so the streets presented a lively appearance. The handsome turnouts of Philadelphia and New York millionaires could be seen, street cars were running, bicycles darting hither and thither, and the pedestrians on the streets nearly all wore clothes suitable for summer outing.

After coming up Bay View Street, which, in the neighborhood of the wharves, did not present a very attractive appearance, the young yachtsmen were surprised and pleased to come out to the square, where they could look around and see handsome brick blocks and buildings of which a city might be proud.

But the crowd of excited small boys attracted attention for the time. They came a little nearer, and the leader cried:

"Let's give three cheers for Frank Merriwell! Ready, now! Yell, fellers, yell!"

They did! They threw up their hands, tossed their caps into the air, and yelled as loudly as they could.

"Great Scott!" gasped Frank. "See what they have done! Why, everybody on the street is staring at us!"

It was true. The spectators had been attracted by the shrill cheers of the small boys, and they were looking toward the three embarrassed lads on the corner by the bank.

A man who was passing stopped and asked one of the boys why they were cheering so loudly.

"See that handsome feller there with the lace on his suit?" asked the boy, pointing Frank out.

"Yes, I see him."

"That's Frank Merriwell," declared the boy, excitedly and proudly.

"Frank Merriwell?" repeated the man, doubtfully. "Who is he?"

"W'at?" yelled the boy, voice and face expressing the greatest amazement and scorn. "Didn't ye never hear of Frank Merriwell? Wat's ther matter with yer? Why don't you go die!"

His contempt was crushing and humiliating, and the man passed on, wondering who in the world Frank Merriwell could be that he was so well known and famous.

But there were plenty of men and youths who had heard of Merriwell, and the report that the great Yale pitcher was in town flew like wildfire. Only the small boys stared at Frank with absolute rudeness, however. Those older looked at him with interest, but were careful not to make their attentions embarrassing.

Merry and his friends walked up into the village, going toward the post office. There were pretty girls on the street, and some of them flashed a brief, admiring glance at the trio of handsome lads in yachting suits.

The small boys trooped along behind, talking excitedly among themselves. Their chatter was amusing to hear.

"Look here, Jimmy," cried one, in fierce contradiction of a statement made by another, "that ain't so, an' you oughter know it! Harvard never got fourteen hits offen Frank Merriwell in one game!"

"Fourteen hits!" yelled another, in derision. "W'at yer givin' us, Jimmy! They never got ten hits offen him in one game! You better go read up about him! You're woozy, that's w'at's ther matter with you!"

"That double-shoot of his is w'at paralyzes 'em," put in another. "He can make ther ball cut all kinds of riggers in the air."

"That's all right," said Jimmy, sullenly. "Slatridge sez ther ain't no such thing as a double-shoot. He says that 'riginated in ther mind of some of them newspaper fellers w'at's writin' up stories 'bout Frank Merriwell."

Then there was a howl of scorn from all the others, and one shook a finger under Jimmy's nose, shouting:

"Slatridge knows it all—in his mind! That feller's too tired to play baseball. He can pitch sometimes, but he don't git woke up only when he thinks he's likely to lose his job. Don't you take stock in ev'rything he says."

"Fellers," said a tall, solemn-looking boy, out at knees and elbows, "I'd give a hundred thousan' dollars to see Frank Merriwell pitch against Rockland an' use his double-shoot on 'em."

"I'd give more'n that to see it, if I jest had the price of admission ter git inter ther game," declared a barefooted boy.

"Why don't Moslof nail him?" fiercely demanded a freckle-faced youngster. "If I was manager of the Camdens, I wouldn't let Frank Merriwell go away alive if he wouldn't play ball for me! I bet Rockland will have him if Moslof don't git him."

"If Rockland gits him, Camden might jest as well crawl right into the smallest hole she can find, and pull the hole in after her. She won't never win another game."

The most of this talk could be distinctly heard by Frank and his friends, and it proved very amusing.

In the window of the drug store near the post office hung a printed poster announcing a game of ball in Camden that afternoon between Rockland and Camden. The bill also stated that Rockland and Camden were tied for first place in the Knox County League, so that the result of one game would put one or the other team at the head.

"We'll have to see that game, fellows," said Frank. "It is evident that there is plenty of baseball excitement down in this part of the country."

At this moment two young men came down from the rooms of the Business Men's Association in the Opera House building, and Frank uttered an exclamation of satisfaction.

"There are two Dartmouth men, boys," he said; "Moslof and McDornick. Moslof is managing the Camdens and playing third. Let's go over and see them."

They walked over to meet the Dartmouth men.