“I’ll think this over a little longer,” he said grimly. “At least, until you are willing to be a little more communicative about yourself. I would be glad to use your story with some fixing up, if I was convinced you really wrote it all. But you have got to show me—or give me proper references.”
“Give me back the scenario, then!” exclaimed the old man, his eyes blazing hotly.
“No. Not yet. I can take my time in deciding upon the manuscripts submitted in this contest. You will have to wait until I decide,” said Mr. Hammond, waving the man out of his office.
CHAPTER XXI
A HERMIT FOR REVENUE ONLY
The bays and inlets of the coast of Maine have the bluest water dotted by the greenest islands that one can imagine. And such wild and romantic looking spots as some of these islands are!
Just at this time, too, a particular tang of romance was in the air. The Germans had threatened to devastate our Atlantic coast from Eastport to Key West with a flock of submersibles. There actually were a few submarines lurking about the pathways of our coastwise shipping; but, as usual, the Hun’s boast came to naught.
The young people on the Stazy scarcely expected to see a German periscope during the run to Reef Harbor. Yet they did not neglect watching out for something of the kind. Skipper Phil Gordon, a young man with one arm but a full and complete knowledge of this coast and how to coax speed out of a gasoline engine, ordered his “crew” of one boy to remain sharply on the lookout, as well.