“Right, sir!” said Bates. “I’ve got a good supper for to-night, too.”
“Being right out on the water this way makes me hungry,” said Eleanor. “That’s good news, Bates.”
CHAPTER XII
THE TRAITOR
The Columbia slowly and steadily made her way down the coast, keeping within a mile or so of the shore. Speed was certainly not her long suit, but she rode the choppy sea more easily than most boats so small would have done, and, since she was not intended for speed, the usual traffic din of the motor was absent. Altogether, she seemed an ideal pleasure boat.
As they went along, Trenwith pointed out the various places of interest along the shore.
“Down this way we get to a part where a lot of rich men have built summer homes,” he said. “You see there’s a good beach, and they can buy enough land to have it to themselves. It’s pretty lonely, in a way, because they’re a good long way from the railroad, but they don’t seem to mind that.”
“I suppose not. They’ve got money enough to keep all the automobiles and yachts they want, so they wouldn’t use the railroad anyhow. I never would if I could get around any other way.”
As they went on, the coast changed considerably from the familiar character it had at Plum Beach. Cliffs took the place of the bluff, and while the beach was still fine and level, there were rocky stretches at more and more frequent intervals.
“What’s the nearest town in this direction?” asked Eleanor.