“Guess they don’t know much about fishing, huh, Eddie?” Teena said, smiling.
“That’s what I figure,” Eddie agreed. “Besides, they didn’t even act like fishermen. That tall fellow really was a grouch. First time I ever ran across a grouchy fisherman.”
“Anyway, let’s quit worrying about them,” Teena suggested. “It’s almost noon. We want to reach the lighthouse before Cap has lunch. He can’t very well eat his lunch and ours, too.”
“O.K.,” Eddie agreed, taking one last glance at the two men rowing out on the blue water of the bay. “But something smells fishy about those two—and I don’t mean the kind you catch on a hook!”
CHAPTER FOUR
The lighthouse was a tall concrete finger, painted dazzling white with broad red rings around it. It stood on the top of a rock palisade which rose steeply from the beach. Steel stairs spiraled upward on the outside, leading to the strong glass-enclosed electric eye at the top.
Eddie and Teena paused on the beach below and looked up. Crude steps hewn out of the rocks led up to the lighthouse.
“I’ll carry the lunch,” Eddie volunteered. “And be careful. The sea spray can make those steps slippery.”
They took their time getting to the top. Sandy went ahead, sniffing in every crevice on the way.