"It's Old Tin-Back," said Betty. "I wonder if he is looking for us?"
"He seems to be looking for something on the beach," commented Grace, "and unless he thinks we have slipped down one of those funny little holes the sand fleas make, I can't see how he could be searching for us."
But the old lobsterman had a message for them, nevertheless, for when he came within hailing distance he called hoarsely:
"Ahoy there, young ladies! Your folks want you to come back. I told 'em I'd tell you if I saw you as I come along, and I done it."
"What were you looking for—treasure?" asked Grace, with a mischievous smile at Amy.
"Treasure? Humph, no, miss. I was looking for some of my lobster pots. A lot of them dragged their moorings in the last storm, and they get cast upon the beach sooner or later."
"Did you ever find any treasure on the beach?" demanded Betty.
"Wa'al, no, not exactly what you could call treasure!" was the slow and cautious answer, "but I did find a pipe once, an' it lasted me for quite a while. Found it jest after I lost my corncob, too. So, in a manner of speakin', I did find suthin'."
"But never gold, or diamonds or real treasure, washed up from a wreck?" asked Amy, eagerly.
"No, miss."