f opinion," rejoined Hank, industriously scraping
away at his fish, and showing no trace of any emotion in his pale eyes.
"Anyhow, what I want right now is some cash. You agreed to pay me well
for what I did the other night, and I haven't seen the money yet."

"Be a little patient, can't you?" irritably retorted the other. "Money
doesn't grow on trees. Now listen, Hank. How would you like to get a
nice little sum of money--more than I could give you--for camping out
on Kidd's Island, in the Upper Inlet, for a few days?"

Hank's fishy eyes showed some trace of feeling at this.

"What do you mean?" he asked. "Is this a new joke you're putting up on
me?"

"No, I am perfectly serious. You can make a good sum by following our
directions, and I'll see that you get into no trouble over it."

"Well, if you can do that, I'll keep my mouth shut," chuckled Hank in
his mirthless way; "but if I don't get some money pretty quick, I'm
going to make trouble fer somebody, I tell you!"

"Haven't you got some place where we can talk that is less exposed than
this?" said Jack, looking about him apprehensively.

"Sure, there's my mansion," grinned Hank, pointing over his shoulder
with a fishy thumb.

"That's the place," said Jack, "although I wish you'd clean it out
occasionally. Now listen, Hank, here's the plan--"

Still talking, the ill-assorted pair entered the ruinous shack.

* * * * * *

Motor-boat engines were popping everywhere. The club house was dressed
in bright-colored bunting from veranda rail to ridge pole. Ladies
strolled about beneath their parasols with correctly dressed yachtsmen,
asking all sorts of absurd questions about the various boats that lay
ready to take part in the various events. It was the day of the
Hampton Yacht Club's regatta.

Among the throng the Boy Scouts threaded their way, watching with
interest the events as they were run off, one after the other. But
their minds were centered on the race for the trophy which, although
there were several other entries, had been practically conceded to Sam
Redding's hydroplane.

"She's a wonder," said one of the onlookers, pointing from the porch to
the float, where Jack Curtiss, Bill Bender and Sam were leaning over
their speedy craft, stripping her of every bit of weight not absolutely
necessary. On the opposite side of the float the crew of the Flying
Fish, the Snark, the Bonita and the Albacore were equally busy over
their craft.

"Dous