“No,” said the man, though there was a queer expression on his face. “I don’t mind,—and the fishing isn’t any too good these days.”
“Got a smack, have you?” inquired Harvey.
“No,” answered the other. “I don’t own any boat myself. But I sail with a man as owns his own boat, and I come in for a fair share of the fish.”
“Where does she lie?” asked Harvey.
The man waited a moment before answering. “She’s down among the islands somewhere,” he said, finally. “She’ll be in for me to-night or to-morrow. I’ve been visiting some relations of mine back of Bellport a few miles. So you’re a summer visitor at the island, are you?”
“Yes,” replied Harvey, “I spend my summers there.”
“Pretty quiet place, isn’t it?” said the man.
“Mostly,” returned Harvey, “but not so quiet this year. We’ve had some exciting times there.”
“Yes?” said the man. “How’s that?”
He had slowed up, himself, in his rowing now. And if by chance the conversation had turned whither he had intended it should, there was no way that Harvey should know of that, for his back was toward the man and he could not see his face.