The Boy Scouts of the Eagle Patrol | Page 5

them all.
"I wonder if the Sam Redding can show her stern to the Flying Fish?" mused Rob. "I'd like to lake a good look at her."
"Let's go down to Redding's boat yard," suggested Merritt; "she's lying there on the ways. I don't suppose any one would object to our sizing her up."
Rob hailed the suggestion as a good one.
"We can call in for Tubby on the way," he said, as he darted into the house after his hat.
The boys dropped in at Tubby's house on their way to the water-front, and received from the stout youth some additional details regarding Sam's boat.
"She's a hydroplane," volunteered Tubby, "and Tom Jennings, down at the yard, says she's as fast as a race horse."
"A hydroplane?--that's one of those craft that cut along the top of the water like a skimming dish, isn't it?" asked Merritt.
"That's the idea," responded Rob. "They're supposed to be as speedy as anything afloat in smooth water."
Thus conversing they reached the boat-building yard of Sam Redding's father and were greeted by Tom Jennings, a big good-natured ship carpenter. "Hullo, Tom! Can we see that new boat of Sam's?" inquired Rob,
"Sure, I guess there's no objection," grinned Tom, "come right this way. There she is, over there by that big winch."
Report had not erred apparently as to the novel qualities of Sam Redding's speed craft. She was about twenty-five feet long, narrow and painted black. She was perfectly flat-bottomed, her underside being deeply notched at frequent intervals. On the edge of those notches she was supposed to glide over the water when driven at top speed.
"She certainly looks like a winner," commented Rob, as he gazed at her clean, slender lines and sharp bow.
"She's got wonderful speed," Tom Jennings confided. "We tried her out the other night when no one was around. But I don't think that in rough water she'll be much good."
"No, I'd prefer the Flying Fish for the waters hereabouts," agreed Rob, "it's liable to come on rough in a hurry and then a chap who was out in a dry-goods box, like that thing, would be in trouble."
"What are you calling a dry-goods box?" demanded an indignant voice behind them, and turning, the lads saw Sam Redding with a menacing look on his face. A little way behind him stood Bill Bender and Jack Curtiss.
"Oh, I beg your pardon, Sam," said Rob. "I really admire your hydroplane very much, and I think it will give us a tussle for the trophy, all right; but I don't think she'd be much good in any kind of a sea-way."
"That's my business, you interfering little runt," snapped Sam, who, with Bill Bender and Jack Curtiss to back him, felt very brave; though ordinarily he would have avoided trouble with the young scouts. "What are you doing spying around the yard here, anyhow?" he went on insolently.
"We are not spying," indignantly burst out Merritt. "We asked Tom Jennings if we couldn't look at your hydroplane, as we were naturally interested in her, and he gave us permission."
"Well, he had no business to," growled Sam; "he ought to be attending to his work instead of showing a lot of nosy young cubs my new boat."
"They are capable of stealing your ideas," chimed in Jack Curtiss, "and putting them on their own boat."
"That's ridiculous," laughed Rob, "as I said I wouldn't want to have anything to do with such a contrivance except on a lake or a river."
"Well, you keep your advice and your ideas to yourself, and get out of this yard!" roared Sam, waxing bolder and bolder, and mistaking Rob's conciliatory manner for cowardice. "I've a good mind to punch your head."
"Better come on and try it," retorted Rob, preparing for the immediate onslaught which it seemed reasonable from Sam's manner to expect.
But it didn't come.
Muttering something about "young cubs," and "keeping the boat-yard gate locked," Sam turned to his chums and invited them to come and try out his new motor in the shop.
As the three chums had no desire to "mix it up with Sam on his own place," as Tubby put it, they left the yard promptly, and walked on down the water-front to the wharf at which lay the Flying Fish, the fastest craft in the Hampton Motor Boat Club. Rob's boat was, to tell the truth, rather broad of beam for a racer and drew quite a little water. She had a powerful motor and clean lines, however, and while not primarily designed solely for "mug-hunting," had beaten everything she had raced with during the few months since the boys had completed her. The money for her motor had been given to Rob by his father, who was quite indulgent to Rob in money matters, having noticed that the lad always expended the sums given