“The Tortoise wins!” cried Lanky. “Good old Tortoise! He may be slow, but he gets there away ahead of the Hare.”
Then came dinner, and then the Argo set sail again. “Now, Benjie,” said David, “you can keep that date you were telling us about. My word, but you look impatient.”
Ben was impatient. He sat in the bow, keeping a lookout for a certain sail.
There were no boats to be seen, however, nearer than a three-masted schooner that moved like a pasteboard ship along the rim of the horizon. The Argo appeared to have that part of the off-shore ocean entirely to herself, and except for the swish of the water against her side there was no noise to break the quiet of the summer afternoon.
The island stood out in its shades of green against the brilliant blue sky. The house was a patch of white as the sailboat drew up to the pier. The landing made, the four campers went ashore. Ben started up the path toward the house, and the others, as people are apt to do when someone leads the way, followed without any definite object in mind.
Ben had almost reached the front steps when the door of Cotterell Hall opened. He stopped in surprise; and so did the other three.
A man in colonial costume, buff-colored coat and breeches, with a three-cornered hat in his hand, stepped out at the front door.
The man made a bow and held out his hat in a gesture of welcome. “I give you a good-day, gentlemen,” he said. “What fortunate chance brings you to Peter Cotterell’s door?”
Tuckerman took it on himself to answer. Returning the bow, he said, “The good ship Argo has brought four adventurers to your island, worthy sir. We trust we do not trespass.”
The gentleman in buff stood with his hat at his hip. “You’re not from the town of Barmouth?” he asked.