“Well, when you do you let me know and maybe the boat will still be waiting for you. Cole’s my name, Forbes Cole, and ‘New York City’ will reach me any time. You see, I began to lose interest in this boat when I’d worked out the last combination in color on her. How do you like the way she’s painted now?” “Very nice,” answered Dick, after an appreciable pause. Mr. Cole burst into a bellow of deep laughter. “Don’t care for it, eh? Well, you should have seen her two years ago; she was worth while then. I had her in Roman stripes. Beginning at the water line, she was blue, white, orange, cerise, purple, and pale green; stripes about six inches broad. Well, she attracted a lot of attention that summer. Folks thought I was crazy.” And he chuckled enjoyably, his brown eyes twinkling. “Then, the year before, I had the hull all bright green and the house burnt-orange. But I didn’t care much for that myself; it was a bit too plain.” The boys laughed. “Are you going to stay here long?” asked Roy politely. “Ask the engine,” replied the artist, “ask the engine. I give her a few turns every morning. If she starts, why, I go on; if she doesn’t I stay. It’s simple enough. Saves me the bother of deciding, too. But I’ve never stopped just here before, and it looks as though I might find some paintable bits around. Where am I, by the way? Is this a private island I’m hitched to? Any law against trespassing?” “It’s Fox Island,” answered Roy, “and it belongs to Doctor Emery, Miss Harriet Emery’s father.” He nodded toward Harry. “He is principal of Ferry Hill School which is just across there on the hill. I don’t believe he would mind your staying here as long as you--as long as your engine likes.” “Do you boys go to school there?” “Yes, that is, Chub and I have just graduated and Dick has another year of it. We three are camping out here, and Harry comes over every day. It’s pretty good fun.” “Yes, but it would be more fun in a boat like this,” said Dick. “I’m going to have one some day, you bet!” “So’m I,” said Harry, lifting her face from where it had been buried in Beastie’s silken coat. “And I’m going to travel all around in it, Japan, Greece, Africa, Venice, Holland--everywhere!” Mr. Cole laughed again until Chub wondered why the windows didn’t fall out. “Bless me,” said the artist, “you’re adventurous for a young lady, Miss--er--Emery! I’ll have to sell the _Roger_ to you.” “Roy says,” remarked Chub, “that you ought to have your sign read: ‘Inquire above or below.’ We wanted to change it for you,” he added audaciously, “only we didn’t like the look of the dog.” “‘Above or below,’ eh? Ho, that’s not bad, boys, that’s not bad! I’ll do it, I’ll change it myself. ‘Above or below,’ eh? Yes, yes, that’s a splendid idea. Folks will think I’m dead, maybe.” “Roy meant,” began Harry anxiously, “that--” “Don’t tell me,” interrupted Mr. Cole. “It might spoil it. Now, where’s this camp of yours, boys?”