on dot coats. Ha! Ha! Ain't
he schmall alretty!" And Hans began to roar, for the coat came to
his knees and the sleeves hid his hands from sight.

"You've got to grow, Hans, before you can fill that," said Sam, laughing.

"Vell, maype I grow some day."

"You will if you eat plenty of sauerkraut and Limburger cheese," and
Sam grinned broadly.

"I vos eat vot I blease, Sam Rofer!"

Hans took off the coat and in doing so turned the garment over. From
out of one of the pockets there fell a flat cardcase of red morocco
leather.

"Hello, you've dropped something, Hans."

"So I tit," answered the German youth, and flinging aside the coat
he picked up the leather cardcase.

"Has it got any cards in it?" questioned Sam, with sudden interest.

"Dot vos vot I vos going to see. Now vait, I vill oben him," went on
Hans, backing away as the youngest Rover reached out for the case.

"Well, do hurry, Hans! You are so slow!" cried Sam, impatiently.

"Vot's der use of hurrying ven you got lots of dime, hey?"

"I want to see what is in the case."

"Maype der tont been noddings in him."

"Hans, will you open it, please?"

"Yah."

"Well, then, do so."

With great deliberation the German youth opened the leather cardcase.
Out of it fluttered a small card photograph. Sam picked it up, gave
one look, and let out a cry of astonishment.

"Well, I never!"

CHAPTER XXI

THE PICTURE IN THE CARDCASE

"Who is it?" questioned Hans, trying to gain possession of the
photograph, but instead of answering Sam started from the cabin.

"I must show this to Dick and Tom!" he cried. "Come along."

"Yah, put--" began the German boy, and then stopped, for there was
nobody to talk to, Sam being already out of sight.

"Dick, look what I found," cried the youngest Rover, as he dashed
into the pilot house.

"A fortune?" asked Dick, with a smile.

"No, a picture. Just look!"

Dick did as requested and gave a start.

"You found this on the yacht?" he cried. "Yes. In the pocket of a
big coat hanging in one of the lockers. It was in a cardcase."

"This is certainly queer. It looks exactly like Harold Bird, doesn't it?"

"It certainly is Harold. I wonder--Oh, look!"

Sam had turned the picture over. On the back were these words, written
in a strong, masculine hand:

To father, from Harold. Merry Xmas!

"Why, Harold must have given this to his father," said Dick,
thoughtfully.--"And if so--"

"Do you think the coat belong