“I don’t blame you!” Stan admitted. “By the way, we sailed into Black Cove last night not knowing anyone was around here——”
A look of surprise crossed the man’s tanned features. His smile disappeared for a moment.
“You sailed into Black Cove?”
“Yes; is that surprising?”
“Why, no, but——”
“Boss!” bellowed some one, and footsteps sounded in the path. “Boss! They’s a yacht anchored on the far side of the cove——!”
The owner of the voice appeared from the pathway and stopped, speechless before the boys and the old man. If the gray-eyed owner of the cabin was peculiar, tall, slender, and well dressed, the newcomer was just the opposite in appearance. Small-eyed, heavy-browed, and fat-faced, he was a disagreeable sort of chap. Apparently of foreign parentage, he was swarthy, and looked as though he had eaten a great deal for many years but never bothered to take a bath. His clothes hung baggy and unkempt, and he gave the air of being a blundering fool in action.
The old man glared for a split second at the fat one.
“Dago,” he said, “Meet my guests,——”
“I’m Stanley Sandborn, and this is John Tallman,” Stan introduced himself and his friend, and he had a feeling that he was known to the old man.