At the beginning of summer both boys decided that Oakport did not offer sufficient opportunity for their ambitious hopes in life. So they had determined to take Hal's newly acquired camera outfit and "tramp it" from town to town, earning their living by photographing and all the while keeping their eyes open for real chances in life. Both had some money, carefully saved and hidden, from the previous summer's work, so that in point of attire they presented a creditable appearance.
During these few weeks of tramping from place to place they had made somewhat more money than their expenses had amounted to. Jack Benson, who was the treasurer, carried their entire hoard in a roll of one and two-dollar bills.
"I tell you, Hal Hastings," Jack now wound up, "this submarine torpedo boat business is already a great field. It's going to be bigger and bigger, for a lot of inventors are at work. If we can hustle our way into this Dunhaven boatyard, we may be able to—"
"Earn a very good living, I guess," nodded Hal, thoughtfully.
"Earn a living?" sniffed Jack, rather scornfully. "Hal, I've got faith enough in both of us to believe that we could make our fortunes in a few years. Look at some of the poor young men who had sense enough to get into the automobile business early. The prizes go to the fellows who get into a field early and have ability enough to build up reputations."
Jabez Holt came out upon the porch at this moment.
"Still here?" he asked, looking at the boys.
"We're going to be here a little while, I guess, if it's agreeable to you, Mr. Holt," Jack answered; with a smile.
"What d'ye mean? I don't want no tin-types taken."
"We haven't asked you to have any photos made, Mr. Holt," Benson ran on. "We're just talking about becoming guests here."