"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." "They are capable of stealing your ideas," chimed in Jack Curtiss, "and putting them on their own boat." "That's ridiculous," laughed Rob, "as I said I wouldn't want to have anything to do with such a contrivance except on a lake or a river." "Well, you keep your advice and your ideas to yourself, and get out of this yard!" roared Sam, waxing bolder and bolder, and mistaking Rob's conciliatory manner for cowardice.

"I've a good mind to punch your head." "Better come on and try it," retorted Rob, preparing for the immediate onslaught which it seemed reasonable from Sam's manner to expect.
But it didn't come.
Muttering something about "young cubs," and "keeping the boat-yard gate locked," Sam turned to his chums and invited them to come and try out his new motor in the shop.
As the three chums had no desire to "mix it up with Sam on his own place," as Tubby put it, they left the yard promptly, and walked on down the water-front to the wharf at which lay the Flying Fish, the fastest craft in the Hampton Motor Boat Club.

Rob's boat was, to tell the truth, rather broad of beam for a racer and drew quite a little water.