JACK FORMS A PLOT The next morning Jack lost no time in making his way toward Hank Handcraft's tumble-down abode.

He found its owner in, and likewise disposed to be quarrelsome.
"'Oh, here you are at last!" exclaimed the hairy and unkempt outcast, as the bully approached heavily through the yielding sand.

"I'd about given you up, and was seriously contemplating making a visit to your home--" "If you ever did," breathed Jack threateningly.
"Well," grinned Hank impudently, with his most malicious chuckle, "if I did, what then ?" "I'd have you thrown out of the house," calmly replied Jack, seating himself on a big log of driftwood, once the rib of a schooner that went ashore on the dangerous shoals off Hampton and pounded herself to pieces.
"Oh, no; you wouldn't have me thrown out!" chuckled Hank, resuming his task of scaling a mackerel.

"Cause if you did, I'd go to the chief of police and tell him something about the robbery of the armory and the cracking of old man Hudgins' safe." "You wouldn't dare to do that!" sneered Jack.

"You are implicated in that as badly as we are." "That's a matter of opinion," rejoined Hank, industriously scraping away at his fish, and showing no trace of any emotion in his pale eyes.
"Anyhow, what I want right now is some cash.