“They say we shall see plenty of them here,” smiled Merry. “Belfast is famous for them. No city of its size in the State of Maine can compare with it for pretty girls and beautiful women, if the report is true.”
“Vot peen der madder mit Shack Ti’mond?” chuckled Hans, calling attention to the Virginian. “He don’d seem to took some interests dose peautiful girls in.”
“Haw!” grunted Bruce Browning. “He is thinking of the girl he left behind him—at Bar Harbor.”
“Vale, Baula Penjamin vos a beach,” admitted the Dutch boy; “but there vos odders.”
“You make me weary, Hans,” said Jack, irritated. “If you will close up a while I shall consider it a great favor.”
“I don’t toldt you so!” squawked Dunnerwust. “You vos tochy, dot’s vot is der madder mit me! You nefer vos aple to took a shoke in my life.”
“Your jokes are rather dense.”
“I don’d knew vot you meant py dot.”
“I didn’t suppose you would.”
The boys were charmed with the view of Belfast obtained from the water. The city is built on a slope, and is embowered in trees, the houses and cottages showing amid the green mass of foliage. Here and there could be seen the tall spires of churches. The handsome residence of the mayor on Northport Avenue could be plainly seen, as it was situated in a sightly place overlooking the harbor and the bay.