There was an ominous growl somewhere above the man and then a savage barking, as the dog—who had followed the boys to the cove and afterward wandered away—came scrambling furiously down the steep path. The man seemed to watch its approach with anxiety, and when it came toward him growling he stooped and picked up a big stone.
"Hold on!" Harry shouted. "Put down that stone! He doesn't like strangers, and you'd better not rile him."
The man did as he was bidden, but when it looked as if the dog would drive him into the water Frank dropped into the canoe. To his astonishment, the stranger suddenly held the camera in front of him and backed away a few paces, pointing it like a pistol at the growling dog, who seemed too surprised to follow. Then Frank ran the canoe ashore and told the man to get in while he drove off the dog.
"He's young," explained Frank. "Somehow we haven't managed to tame him."
He headed for the sloop, and the man got on board.
"You seem stuck on taking photographs," Harry remarked.
"I make a little out of them now and then," the stranger answered with a smile. "You're Harry Oliver?"
"That's my name."
"Then your friend is Frank Whitney?"
"Yes," replied Harry. "But you haven't answered my question yet."