“Yes, you’re right,” the other answered; “and unless my eyes tell me wrong, seems as if there might be several boats collected there. I can see a shantyboat; there are some small row-boats, and another big craft moored to the shore that must be a rich man’s pleasure craft.” “Ought we take chances by joining them?” asked cautious Will. Frank swept a look around at the darkening sky ahead. “The way things look,” he observed, reluctantly, “I’m afraid we’ll have to chance it for once, though we were warned to keep away from other boats all we could. But there is some bad weather coming, and perhaps these fellows know it, and have put in here to avoid being caught below in the open.” “Then shall I swing her in toward the shore now?” asked Jerry. “I’ll give you a helping hand,” volunteered Frank, who knew the sensitive nature of his chum, and understood how, in all probability, Jerry must have been repenting of his carelessness all the afternoon. Between them they easily managed to get the cumbersome houseboat into the cove where the others lay snugly. It was a good harbor, at any rate, in case of a blow; and Frank would have been greatly pleased did the _Pot Luck_ lie there all alone. “Say, that’s a fine affair there,” remarked Bluff, as he stood at the side, and looked toward the large craft that snuggled against the shore, being held by strong cables both above and below; “and some rich fellow’s pleasure boat, too, because she can go up or down the river, having a gasolene engine. I’d like to see what she might be like inside. There’s a young fellow standing watching us, Frank; would you mind if I stepped over, and struck up an acquaintance with him?” “Sure not, Bluff; and I’ll go you one better by keeping you company.” “Fine,” remarked Bluff; “just wait a minute, and I’ll join you. I want to get my gun.” “Hold on,” laughed Frank; “what do you think you’re going to run up against here? Ten to one these people are all honest chaps. Why, I can see a sign right now, on one of the shantyboats, and it tells us that the man aboard is a locksmith.” “That’s just it,” spoke up Bluff, as he dived into the cabin, and came out again bearing his repeater; “don’t you see that he’s got what’s meant to be a picture of a gun on his sign? That means he mends them; and I’ve a notion my pump-gun needs a little attention.” “Same old story, eh?” remarked Frank; “I remember that long ago it used to be getting out of order every little while, and made you lots of trouble.” “Oh! it’s nothing to speak of,” Bluff declared, always ready to stand up in defense of his arms; “but while I had the chance I thought it would be a good thing to have a repair man take a look at it. When you want a gun you want it bad; and it ought to be always ready for use.” “Glad to hear you say that, Bluff,” Frank admitted; because as a rule his chum was inclined to be careless in his ways.