That afternoon Peter, accompanied by Mr. Grant, Brandon, and Heavitree, went over to see the man he had rescued. The visit was paid at Blueskin’s request, for the man was really grateful. Nevertheless the expression on his face was one of comical dismay when he recognised the members of the _Kestrel’s_ crew. “I’m right down sorry I played the dirty on yer,” he declared. “That’s all right,” replied Mr. Grant. “We’ll call the account square. But why did you?” “It’s like this ’ere,” explained Blueskin. “I war fair upset when I found you’d bought that there boat. I wanted ’er, and seein’ as I didn’t get ’er, I sort o’ made up my mind no one else shouldn’t. I oughtn’t tu ’ave tried to set she afire, but I reckoned as you’d get out afore any ’arm was done yer.” “Neither was there, fortunately,” added the Scoutmaster. “But we didn’t know you were the fellow. We thought you might be, so we kept watch on your house all night.” “I knows you did,” agreed Blueskin. “You were outside my house when I got ’ome.” “And how did you manage that?” asked Peter. Blueskin gave the suspicion of a wink. “That’s tellin’,” he answered oracularly. “But I’m a-goin’ straight arter this, I am,” he declared. “Good!” exclaimed Craddock. “We hope you will. But I think you can answer my question: isn’t there an underground passage between old Dick Marner’s shed and your cottage?” For a moment Blueskin looked thunderstruck. “Yes,” he admitted. “Sure there is. ’Ow did you twig it? Sakes alive! A chap like me must get up very early in t’mornin’ tu get to wind’ard of a Sea Scout, I’m thinkin’.” “How did you find out about the secret tunnel?” asked Brandon of his chum after the interview with Carlo Bone. “I didn’t,” replied Peter. “It was a guess on my part. I’d been thinking things over, and, like Mr. Grant got it out of young Marner that he hadn’t a motor bike, that rather confirmed my theory, although, of course, I might have been wide of the mark.” Little more remains to be told. The Jamboree ran its course in perfect weather and with unabated enthusiasm. At its termination, Eric Little was sent to his uncle’s house at Chichester, where life for him was considerably brightened by his being able to have friends of his own age. He lost no time in becoming a Cub. After the termination of the Sea Scouts’ marine festival, the assembly of yachts and boats dispersed. The _Kestrel_ got away in company with nearly a dozen craft bound for the eastern part of the English Channel and the East Coast. Three days later she entered Aberstour Harbour and made fast alongside the quay in the berth the old _Puffin_ had so long occupied. “We’ve had a topping time,” declared Heavitree, as the crew prepared to disperse to their respective homes. “Course we’ve had sticky times, too; but what’s the use of being Sea Scouts if we don’t know how to tackle them?”