“Sure,” replied Chub cheerfully. “Church for mine!” “Thought you said your foot was too bad,” observed Roy suspiciously. “Well, you didn’t tell me you were going in the launch, did you? Sea-trips are beneficial to invalids.” Billy was back shortly and a little before ten they started off. The _Pup_ ran splendidly and they reached the cove long before church-time. As they passed up the street they encountered the freight-handler who had helped them get the launch into the water. They didn’t recognize him until he spoke to them, for he had his Sunday clothes on and was quite a respectable looking citizen. As he passed Chub turned to have a further view of him. The freight-handler had also turned his head and as their glances met, the latter nodded and: “A fine morning after the rain,” he called cheerily. But Chub made no answer. He went on silently for the next block, stumbling over two curbstones and thinking busily. Even if he had made a mistake in thinking that he had heard Billy Noon’s voice last night, he was positive that he was making no mistake now. One of the men in the boat was the freight-handler! Chub was stumbling over his third curb when Billy, who was walking beside him, put out a hand quickly and steadied him. “Here,” he said, “that isn’t good for your ankle. Maybe we’re walking too fast for you?” “Not a bit of it,” murmured Chub. I’m afraid he didn’t hear very much of the sermon, for his thoughts were busy with the problem of the man in the boat. He wished that he had looked at Billy as they had passed the freight-handler and seen whether the two had recognized each other. He might ask Billy, but there was no reason to suppose that the latter would confess to an acquaintance with the freight-handler unless he chose to. No, he would just keep things to himself and watch. Whatever was to happen would not occur until Thursday, and that was four days distant. Perhaps before that he could find a solution of the mystery. Letter-writing and reading consumed most of the afternoon. At about four Billy passed down the river in his boat, hailing them as he sped briskly along. Chub watched him as long as he was in sight and then returned with a sigh to his letter. Later they went into the woods in search of fuel and at six sat down to supper. Harry was spending the day with a girl friend at the Cove and so there were only three at table this evening. But Harry was on hand bright and early next morning with Snip and a basket of fresh, still warm doughnuts. “I’ve been up ever since a quarter of six,” she explained proudly, “and I had these all made by half-past seven.” “I’ll bet they’re good, too,” said Chub as he stole one and put his teeth into it. “Yum, yum! No almond flavoring this time, fellows!”