triking that he
drew more attention than did his comrades or the boat itself. His
yachting cap was cocked at a saucy angle, revealing his fiery red hair,
while underneath it was his broad, crimson face, sprinkled with freckles,
and his vast grin revealed his big white teeth. It will be remembered
that the remainder of his costume was his ordinary civilian attire,
though Captain Alvin Landon had promised him a fine suit for the
following season. The time was too short to secure one for the present
occasion.

Mike's good-natured grin awoke more than one responsive smile among the
crowd on the dock. The universal opinion was that the youth from the
Emerald Isle was so homely of countenance that he couldn't be any
homelier, but at the same time none could be more popular. He knew that
the eyes of nearly every one were fixed upon him and he in turn scanned
the different faces, all of which were strange to him.

Alvin Landon slowed down as he approached and guided his boat among the
others with the skill of a professional chauffeur weaving in and out of a
procession of carriages. He gave his whole attention to this task,
Chester watching the performance with the admiration he had felt many
times before. But it was the people who interested Mike. Before the boat
rounded to, Stockham Calvert, the detective, accompanied by Lawyer
Westerfield, of New York, walked down the inclined steps to the float.
Westerfield was a gentleman of culture, an authority on many questions
and one of the greatest baseball fans in the country. Having secured a
liberal money contribution from Calvert the night before at the Inn, he
invited him to stay and witness the great struggle between the Boothbay
nine and the Squirrel Islanders. Westerfield was to act as umpire, his
impartiality and quickness of perception having won the confidence of all
parties; but of course Calvert had to decline under the pressure of a
previous engagement.

"It does a fellow good to look at that broth of a boy squatting on the
stern," remarked Westerfield, while the _Deerfoot_ was still a short
distance away.

"His name is Mike and he is a great favorite with every one. As yet I
have not met him, but he has all the wit and humor of his people. Suppose
you test him."

Nothing loath, Westerfield, who was a bit of a wag himself, called so
that all heard him:

"You don't need to show a red signal light, my friend; you ought to wait
until night."

Cocking his head a li