Part 8 (1/2)

”Ahoy there, young ladies! Your folks want you to come back. I told 'em I'd tell you if I saw you as I come along, and I done it.”

”What were you looking for--treasure?” asked Grace, with a mischievous smile at Amy.

”Treasure? Humph, no, miss. I was looking for some of my lobster pots. A lot of them dragged their moorings in the last storm, and they get cast upon the beach sooner or later.”

”Did you ever find any treasure on the beach?” demanded Betty.

”Wa'al, no, not exactly what you could call _treasure_!” was the slow and cautious answer, ”but I did find a pipe once, an' it lasted me for quite a while. Found it jest after I lost my corncob, too. So, in a manner of speakin', I did find suthin'.”

”But never gold, or diamonds or _real_ treasure, washed up from a wreck?” asked Amy, eagerly.

”No, miss.”

”Are there ever wrecks?” inquired Betty.

”Oh, yes, once in a while, though not usually this time of year. In the winter the sea's altogether different, miss. It's terrible cruel and cold. Then we have wrecks. Why, right off there, two year ago,” and with a gnarled finger he pointed though at no particular object as far as the girls could see, ”right off there a three-master went down one night in a January, and all hands--eleven of 'em--was drownded.”

”Didn't anyone try to save them?” asked Grace.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE OLD LOBSTERMAN PEERED THROUGH A BATTERED SPY-GLa.s.s.

”THAT'S HER,” HE ANNOUNCED.--_Page 51._

_The Outdoor Girls at Ocean View._]

”Oh, yes, they tried, miss, but they couldn't launch the boat, and the wind was blowin' so they couldn't shoot a line over. The boat went to pieces on the bar, and the bodies washed ash.o.r.e next day.”

He told it simply, and was silent for a s.p.a.ce.

”Does anything ever wash ash.o.r.e from the wrecks?” asked Mollie.

”Oh, yes, once in a while, but not what you could rightly call treasure.

Once a banana steamer got on the bar, and they had to throw over lots of cargo to lighten her. Folks here made quite a tidy sum collectin' them bunches of green bananas.”

”But no boxes of gold or diamonds--mysterious, locked boxes?” asked Amy, still hopefully.

”No, miss, nothin' like that,” and Old Tin-Back looked as though he was not altogether sure whether or not he was being made fun of.

The days pa.s.sed at Ocean View, sunny, happy days. Each one brought new pleasure and delight to the outdoor girls, and they lived up to their name, for they were seldom in the house. They bathed and rowed in the bay, or paid visits to the quaint little town, where Grace discovered an old French woman who made delicious taffy.

”So Grace's happiness is a.s.sured for the summer,” declared Mollie.

Then came a day when, as the four went down to see Old Tin-Back set off from the little dock in his dory to take up his lobster pots, they saw a motor boat heading into the bay.

”Oh, if that should be the boys!” exclaimed Grace, hopefully. ”They wrote they might come this week; didn't they?”

”Yes,” answered Betty.