"I think that man—whoever he is—is after fish worms. See, he has a tin can there, ready to put the worms in. That's all he's doing, Sammy. He's after bait, getting ready for a fishing trip late to-night or early to-morrow morning."
"That's right," said Bob.
"Oh, is it?" asked Sammy, and he did not seem at all disturbed by what his chums said. Then he quietly asked them:
"Did you fellows ever hear of catching salt-water fish on angle worms? I guess not—not around here, anyhow. Wasn't that what old Hamp Salina told us, when we asked him about bait the other day?"
"That's so," agreed Frank. "They don't use angle worms around here."
"No, but they use blood worms," declared Bob, "and you have to dig for them."
"Yes, down on the beach, but not up as far as this from the water," spoke Sammy earnestly, and the boys knew that he was right. Still the man with the lantern was digging for something, and he seemed very much in earnest about it, too.
The boys watched him for a minute or so in silence. They had spoken in whispers so far, and the digger had evidently not heard or seen them. He was too busy using his shovel.
Presently Frank spoke.
"Say, fellows!" he exclaimed, "maybe he isn't digging for anything after all."