But there was somebody within sight and hearing of the occurrence who was not likely to forget it. The two Walcott Hall boys, however, went on down to the dock without marking the presence of this curious individual.
The fellow, who had said his name was Yansey, skipper of the Nothing To It, was sitting on the stringpiece of the wharf, swinging his legs and chaffing with the trio aboard the Spoondrift.
He was a smart-looking, cheerful lad, with the spirit of a sparrow—a friendly soul who even made Midkiff warm toward him. He hailed the latter and Rex as though he was an old friend.
"Say," he began on the blond chap, "I hear your name is Rex Kingdon?"
"Who told you so much?"
"These chaps here in the tub."
"Of course. They are devoted to the unadorned truth," said Kingdon whimsically. "You know, Old Till wants a chair of Truth endowed at Walcott Hall."
"Maybe he feels the need of one there?" suggested Yansey cheerfully.
"Don't be so dazzling! What have you come over here for—to try to get our angoras because you couldn't beat us out with that old log of wood you were attempting to sail?"
"Came because I fell in love with you all at first glance," returned Yansey, grinning up at the curly-haired lad. "Bet you can't say that of me."