red in response. His reply, however, was interrupted by
Sam Hodge as he said, "This is a mighty good boat. She must have cost a
pile of money."

"She did," said George quickly. "Fred had to save up his spending money
for several days before he bought her. You don't talk like a native
around here, Sam. Where did you come from?"

"I come from New York," answered Sam.

"What were you doing there?"

"Oh, I worked in a factory where we made legs and feet and arms for
dummies and models."

"Fine job," laughed George. "Did you like it?"

"I liked the job all right," replied Sam, "but I didn't like our
foreman. I quit on account of him."

"What was wrong with him?"

"Everything," said Sam quietly.

"So that was why you left and came up here to work on motor-boats was
it?"

"Yes," answered Sam. "That foreman was the hardest man to get along
with I ever saw. I put up with it for months, but finally there came a
day when I decided I wouldn't stand any more of it."

"What happened?"

"Why, I had a sore hand and I asked him to cut one of my feet off and
he cut it off for me and then he got mad at something I said and threw
one of his legs at me. Then not satisfied with that he took one of the
girl's feet and threw that at me, too. Of course I got mad. I picked up
one of my legs in my hand and I tried to defend myself and then he hit
me in the eye with one of his hands and knocked me over among a lot of
legs and arms. He almost broke my foot and--"

"Did you say he cut one of your feet off?" asked Grant, soberly looking
down at the pedal extremities of the mechanic, as he did so.

"That's just what he did," answered Sam.

"But it seems to be all right now," protested Fred.

"You don't quite see," said Sam. "I'm talking about the foreman of the
factory where I worked over on Broome Street. We manufactured legs and
feet and arms for dummies and models like I was telling you."

"Like those that we see in the show windows?"

"That's it exactly," said Sam. "Those dummies and models that they put
in the store windows to display gowns on. I was working on one of the
artificial feet and I mean he broke it. Oh, no, he didn't cut one of my
REAL feet off. But he did hit me in the eye with one of his hands."

"I see," said George seriously. "It was an artificial eye of yours that
he hit."

"No, it wasn't," retorted Sam. "It was my real eye."

"But he hit it with one of his artificial hands. Is that it, or did he
hit i