Rob hailed the suggestion as a good one.

“We can call in for Tubby on the way,” he said, as he darted into the house after his hat.

The boys dropped in at Tubby’s house on their way to the water-front, and received from the stout youth some additional details regarding Sam’s boat.

“She’s a hydroplane,” volunteered Tubby, “and Tom Jennings, down at the yard, says she’s as fast as a race horse.”

“A hydroplane?—­that’s one of those craft that cut along the top of the water like a skimming dish, isn’t it?” asked Merritt.

“That’s the idea,” responded Rob.  “They’re supposed to be as speedy as anything afloat in smooth water.”

Thus conversing they reached the boat-building yard of Sam Redding’s father and were greeted by Tom Jennings, a big good-natured ship carpenter.  “Hullo, Tom!  Can we see that new boat of Sam’s?” inquired Rob,

“Sure, I guess there’s no objection,” grinned Tom, “come right this way.  There she is, over there by that big winch.”

Report had not erred apparently as to the novel qualities of Sam Redding’s speed craft.  She was about twenty-five feet long, narrow and painted black.  She was perfectly flat-bottomed, her underside being deeply notched at frequent intervals.  On the edge of those notches she was supposed to glide over the water when driven at top speed.

“She certainly looks like a winner,” commented Rob, as he gazed at her clean, slender lines and sharp bow.

“She’s got wonderful speed,” Tom Jennings confided.  “We tried her out the other night when no one was around.  But I don’t think that in rough water she’ll be much good.”

“No, I’d prefer the Flying Fish for the waters hereabouts,” agreed Rob, “it’s liable to come on rough in a hurry and then a chap who was out in a dry-goods box, like that thing, would be in trouble.”

“What are you calling a dry-goods box?” demanded an indignant voice behind them, and turning, the lads saw Sam Redding with a menacing look on his face.  A little way behind him stood Bill Bender and Jack Curtiss.

“Oh, I beg your pardon, Sam,” said Rob.  “I really admire your hydroplane very much, and I think it will give us a tussle for the trophy, all right; but I don’t think she’d be much good in any kind of a sea-way.”

“That’s my business, you interfering little runt,” snapped Sam, who, with Bill Bender and Jack Curtiss to back him, felt very brave; though ordinarily he would have avoided trouble with the young scouts.  “What are you doing spying around the yard here, anyhow?” he went on insolently.

“We are not spying,” indignantly burst out Merritt.  “We asked Tom Jennings if we couldn’t look at your hydroplane, as we were naturally interested in her, and he gave us permission.”

“Well, he had no business to,” growled Sam; “he ought to be attending to his work instead of showing a lot of nosy young cubs my new boat.”