"Where's your togs, gentlemen?" asked Pete, looking about the bottom of the boat as he took his seat.
"What we managed to get away with, we've left on board the schooner," answered Barney. "She expects to get to sea to-morrow night, you know, and we thought it wouldn't be worth while to bring anything ashore for so short a time."
"All right, you ought to know best, but I can't fit you all out with clean shirts and collars, understand."
"Oh, don't let that worry you, my good friend," said Bissell, with a good deal of effusion, "we will excuse you, and do very well, I have no doubt."
Clarky remained silent—indeed, he hardly spoke even when Pete addressed him, but worked away at his oar as if his very life depended upon it.
Presently they reached the shore and landed.
Pete addressed a few words to Clarky in a low tone, and then turning to his other companion, said:
"All ready; come on," and at once started up a narrow pathway, at some distance from the main road.
Bissell, with some curiosity, looked back.
He saw Clarky haul the boat well up out of the water and fasten it to a stake. He then saw him start toward a little clump of trees, where the faint outlines of a boat-house could just be seen.