"You will not! They all go in the same kettle, anyhow. Say, Bob," he went on, "what's the matter with having a clam roast out on the beach some night?"
"Sure we can," said Bob. "We'll build a fire, roast clams and boil crabs, and have some of the other fellows over. That'll be fun!"
"It sure will," agreed Sammy. "But say, fellows, what about him?" and he nodded in the direction of the old man in the clump of evergreen trees. He was still digging away, seemingly paying no attention to anything, or anyone, around him. "Are we going to follow him, or not?"
"We can't follow him, when he isn't going anywhere," observed Bob.
"No, but he may start off at any time," said Sammy. "We could tell where he lives, and then we could find out something about him. As it is now we can't even tell who he is, and there are a lot of men who look like him around Lighthouse Cove."
"Well, what's your plan?" asked Frank, carefully pulling up his crab line, in the hope that the big fellow had again taken the meat. One was there, but it was so small that he shook it off, not wanting to net it.
"I say let's row close over to where he is," suggested Sammy. "Then, when he starts off, we can go ashore and follow him."
"Maybe he's got a boat hidden somewhere on shore," said Bob. "Let's take a look."
The boys scanned the beach, but could see nothing of another craft. Meanwhile, the old man in the clump of evergreens continued to dig away. He paid no attention to the boys.
"Tell you what it is," said Sammy, at length, "we've got to play foxy now. We don't want any more of that hermit business."