“Carl’s showing good taste, anyhow,” continued Dick. “Ysabel Sixty is a fine girl. Now that her father, Jim Sixty, is put where he can’t interfere with her, she’s going to be happier than she ever was before. But Carl is off soundings. The girl hasn’t an eye for him, but for you.”
“Oh, rot!” grunted Bob.
“It’s a fact, all the same. The girl has taken a fancy to you, Bob, and you wouldn’t turn your head to look at the handsomest girl that ever walked. Gasoline motors are your hobby. You’re a born motorist. An explosive engine will be your best girl till the end of the chapter.”
Bob enjoyed this. Dick had a way, now and then, of giving a subject a humorous turn that was highly diverting. Just as Bob was on the point of giving some jesting reply, a voice came to them from without.
“Ahoy, de Grampus! Tumble out an’ pass us a line!”
Both boys gained their feet on the instant.
“That’s Sambo with his sailboat!” exclaimed Dick. “He’s bringing visitors. Nice time, this, to receive callers from Belize.”
“Perhaps it’s Carl coming back,” answered Bob, halfway up the iron ladder toward the conning-tower hatch.
“If it is,” went on Dick, laying hold of the ladder, “then our fun for to-night is knocked in the head.”
As soon as Bob got his head out of the hatch he saw a small sailboat hove to alongside the submarine. There were several men in her, and two were standing forward and aft to catch the ropes they were expecting to be thrown. Because of the evening dusk it was impossible to distinguish those in the boat, but it was plain that the craft was the one which the crew of the Grampus used for going ashore.