"What about the models?"
"I've got them hidden up here in the sand," came Barton's voice in reply. "I'd have had them ready but two blooming kids trailed me here."
"Trailed you? What do you mean?" demanded the voice of the man who had first spoken and who, with the solitary exception noted, had carried on most of the conversation.
"Why, this Ensign Hargreaves, this Navy dude, saw fit to bring a band of Boy Scouts down here. They're the nosiest kids ever, and I half think they suspect me of not being all I appear to be."
"That's a good guess," whispered Rob to Merritt.
Merritt could not refrain from a quiet chuckle.
"As a long distance and local guesser, Barton takes the palm," he breathed.
"Hush!" murmured Rob under his breath: "What are they up to now?"
"Going to dig up those models, I guess. Barton must have stolen them from the workshop at odd moments."
Right then something happened that gave Merritt a shock. Rob rose to his feet and started toward the beach. The men that the two Boy Scouts were watching had headed inland, evidently to aid Barton in uncovering the hidden models.