arding
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