Anything in the line of yacht or ship-models interested both of these sea-loving boys from the shipyard at Dunhaven. Jack graciously accepted the invitation for them both.
"And, though I have no soda fountain," continued the bearded one, "I can offer you some soft drinks. I always keep some about the place."
"How do you come to be living in a place like this, if I'm not too inquisitive?" queried Benson, as the three strolled down the street.
"Doctor's orders," replied the bearded one. "So I've rented the best old shack I could get here, down by the water. I spend a good deal of my time sailing a sloop that I have. Curtis is my name."
Jack and Hal introduced themselves in turn.
Curtis's shack proved to be well away from the village proper, and down near the waterfront. A light shone from a window near the front door as the three approached the small dwelling.
"I think I can interest you for an hour, gentlemen," declared the bearded one, as he slipped a key in the lock of the door.
He admitted them to a little room off the hallway, a room that contained not much beyond a table and four, chairs, a side-table and some of the accessories of the smoker.
"Just take a seat here," proposed Curtis, "while I get some sarsaparilla for you. I'll be right back in a moment."
It was four or five minutes before Curtis came, back, bearing a tray on which were three tall glasses, each containing a brownish liquid.