They cast anchor and went up into the old town, which was quite a little settlement clustered on a steep bank overhanging the harbour, and which boasted of a fine summer hotel and several smaller ones. And when it got to be late afternoon, Mr. Carleton wouldn’t hear of their departing; but they should all stay to supper at the hotel. If the wind died down with the sun, why, they could stay all night. What did it matter, when they were out for a good time? So they ate supper in style in the big hotel dining-room, and came forth from there an hour later to see the waters calm and the wind fallen. “Never mind, we’ll sleep aboard the _Viking_,” said Henry Burns. “There’s room enough, though we have taken out some of the mattresses so as to put in the fishing-truck.” But Mr. Carleton would not hear of this. Not for a moment. He liked roughing it, to be sure, as well as any of them. But they were his guests now for the night. They must remain right there at the hotel, and he would see about the rooms. And they should breakfast at the hotel and then sail back the next day at their ease. They were not unwilling. It was an unusual sort of a lark, but so long as Mr. Carleton was enjoying it and was ready to pay the bills, they were satisfied. So they sat on the veranda for several hours, enjoying the music of the orchestra in the parlour and watching the dancing through the windows. Then, when Mr. Carleton had bade them good night and had gone up to his room, they followed shortly, Tom and Bob occupying one room together and Harvey and Henry Burns, likewise, one adjoining. “Jack,” said Henry Burns, suddenly, pausing in the act of divesting himself of his blue yachting-shirt, “hang it! but I’ve forgotten to lock the cabin.” “Oh, let it go,” said Harvey, who was already in bed and was drowsy with the sea air and good feeding. “No, I don’t like to,” said Henry Burns. “There’s a lot of boats lying close by; and you know how easy it is for one of those fishermen to slip aboard, and sail out at four o’clock in the morning, with one of our new lines and that compass that cost more than we could afford to pay just now; and there’s a lot of things that we couldn’t afford to lose just at this time. No, I’m going to run down and lock up.” “It’s a good half-mile,” muttered Harvey. “Better take the chance and let it go.” “Yes, but you wouldn’t say so if you had forgotten it,” said Henry Burns. “I’m to blame. And if you don’t see me again, why, you’ll know I’ve stayed aboard.” Henry Burns said this last half in fun, as he departed. As for Harvey, it mattered naught to him whether Henry Burns returned or stayed away. He was asleep before his comrade had closed the hotel door behind him.