No one appeared in the street, at first. Jack strolled down the principal street, looking into each house without much difficulty. Yet the one face that he sought was not visible.
Down at the further end of the street Benson came upon a tumble-down-looking grocery store.
"What kind of sandwiches can you put me up?" queried the submarine boy, casually.
"Stranger, eh?" asked the man behind the counter, staring curiously.
"Yes; haven't you had any other strangers here lately?"
"Not as I knows on," replied the man, a shaggy, unkempt-looking fellow of forty.
"None here to-day, eh?" asked Jack, taking out a half-dollar and toying with it on the counter.
"Don't remember anybody very special," replied the storekeeper.
"You haven't answered me about the kinds of sandwiches you can put up,"
Jack reminded him.
"Not very fancy in that line, young feller. Cheese, or sardines; that's all."