"Well, Cobtown is made up of three or four little villages of rickety old houses. Some are occupied by fishermen, and some ain't. There's three or four coves down that way fishing craft anchor in. It's a lonely, wild bit of country, and some rough characters 'mong them fishermen."
"Did you take your fare to any particular house or shanty down at
Cobtown?"
"Nope; she got out on the road, in sight o' Cobtown, an' walked along, toting her old grip."
"What kind of a 'grip' was it?"
"An old brownish suit case."
"That's the one," nodded Eph.
As the driver busied himself over his team, the submarine boys drew aside to talk over their new information.
"I reckon we're going to be too late," grumbled Captain Jack.
"What makes you think so?" Hal inquired.
"Fishing villages, smacks and fishermen," answered Jack, gloomily. "Fishermen are a daring, reckless lot of fellows. They'd take a craft anywhere, in any kind of weather, for money enough. Fellows, I'm afraid Millard has hired a smack and started up or down the coast."