"Keep your head, Hatton," commanded Hardy; "don't talk tommyrot. What in the name of herring could one of the yacht's boats be doing way up here?"
The boy slackened his pace a bit to rattle off his story. When Hardy had left for the store, he related, he kept an eye on the plane, but moved over closer to the beach. Among several boats lying there, one had instantly attracted his attention on account of its being a type quite different from those used by oystermen. Drawing nearer to inspect it better, he discovered that one side had been staved in as by the blows of an axe. The name on either side of the prow seemed to have been sandpapered out, but some fragments of letters still visible convinced him that the name had been The Jolly Ruffian. To confirm his suspicions, he found cut in the wood of the gunwale the letters W. M. M. H. This piece of mischief he had perpetrated five years before, and his misdeed had been deeply impressed upon him by a spanking.
Partly convinced by the story, Hardy reached the boat, inspected it carefully, and agreed with Nash that the evidence was overwhelming. The
