As the boys reached the narrow confines of the small deck at the top of the conning tower they saw a figure hastening along the foot planks that led from vessel to vessel. The fleeing person was now almost at the building on the wharf. In a moment the shelter of this structure had been gained. The figure dodged out of sight.
“Now, that’s a funny thing to do!” mused Ned. “I wonder just what the fellow wanted. Are you sure it was Mackinder, Jimmie?”
“No, I’m not,” admitted the lad. “Of course, the face was in shadow as he looked down the hatch. I’m not positive, but thought it was he.”
“Well, let’s not bother about it any more,” said Ned, apparently dismissing the subject. “We’re too hungry for any more mysteries!”
As only hungry boys can the five attacked the ample dinner provided for them. The dishes were strange but appetizing. Jimmie declared that he intended to remain in that location for some time in order to become acquainted with the chef. He said that he would be the envy of the entire Wolf Patrol if he could cook in German style.
After dinner the boys gathered in the lee of a small building, where they would be protected from the chilling blasts. Puffy squalls, bearing dashes of snow, sleet or rain, came threshing out of the west. It appeared to the lads that the weather was growing decidedly worse.
In spite of the inclement weather a number of the hardy workmen were indulging in out of door sports during their rest hour.
For some time the lads watched the games as the hardy men relaxed their work-tensed muscles. The sullen booming of surf on the rocky coast constantly sounded in their ears.