"Something queer?" repeated Amy.
"Yes, the men in it don't seem to be gathering clams, which work all the other schooners are engaged in around here, and they're not net fishermen aboard her."
"Who told you that?" asked Mollie.
"Old Tin-Back. He notices anything odd about the boats. He said he passed her in his dory the other day, and some one yelled to him not to come too close."
"Why was that?" Grace asked.
"That's what Tin-Back didn't know. He thought it was very strange," Betty went on. "But come on, I know Grace must be—famished! Aren't you, my dear?"
The baskets were opened, and the contents spread out on a cloth on the sand. Grace reached for the bottle of olives.
"For an appetizer," she explained.
"You need it, after munching candy all the way here," commented Mollie.
And then, as they ate, the girls talked of many matters, now and then looking off toward the bay or ocean, whereon could be seen many vessels, mostly little clamming schooners, drifting with the wind on their squared sails, dragging the big rakes along the bottom. But the schooner of which Betty had spoken rose and fell at her anchor, and there was no sign of life aboard.