“Then I vote that we find a hotel or restaurant,” said Dan, “and have a thundering good dinner. If the old duffer comes while we’re gone he can wait till we get back.” The vote was carried, the cabin was locked again and the quartet set off in search of dinner. It wasn’t hard to find, and at a quarter before one they were back at the wharf. The carpenter, garrulous and apologetic, arrived a few minutes later and the entire party went back up the pier, climbed down a slippery ladder and reached the little beach where lay the tender looking like a novel bathtub. The beach was composed largely of black muck and the resulting operations were disastrous to four pairs of white canvas shoes. “Catch ahold here,” said the carpenter, “and turn her over.” Out splashed the water and the dead fish and over went the tender until she lay bottom up. It wasn’t necessary to hunt long for the leaks. Half a dozen small splintered holes on each side of the keel confronted them. The carpenter examined them attentively. “How’d you do it?” he asked finally. “We don’t know,” answered Nelson lamely. “We think, though, that she struck a rock or something.” “Rock, eh?” said the other with a sniff. “Must have been inside the boat then, unless you had her turned inside out. See them splinters? Point outward, don’t they? Whatever made them holes was inside the boat, gentlemen.” “That’s so,” Nelson acknowledged. “I wonder what did it.” “If you’re asking me, ’twas a boat hook as did it. And it wa’n’t no accident, neither. Boat hooks don’t up of themselves and go to punchin’ holes in the bottom of a boat like that.” He looked expectantly around as though explanations were in order. But Nelson and the others only looked grave and unenlightened. “Humph!” said the carpenter, returning to his examination of the injuries. But that “Humph!” said a whole lot. “Can it be mended?” asked Nelson. “Course it can be mended,” was the reply, “but I can’t do it here. I’ll have to put in two new planks. I’ll get my dory and tow her around to the shop.” “How long will it take?” asked Bob. “Oh, I cal’ate you can have her to-morrow some time.” “That won’t do. We’ve got to start away first thing in the morning. Can’t you work on it this afternoon?” The carpenter pushed back his old felt hat and rubbed his bald head reflectively. “Well, I’m pretty busy right now, but I’ll do my best. Got any oakum, cap’n?”