THE STOLEN UNIFORMS Rob and his old friend lost no time the next morning in getting down to the water-front to make inquiries about the captain's missing boat.

To their astonishment, however, almost the first craft that caught their eyes as they arrived at the L wharf to begin their search was the old sailor's motor dory, to all appearances in exactly the same position she had occupied the preceding night when the captain moored her.
"Have I clapped deadlights on my optics, or am I gone plumb locoed ?" bellowed the amazed captain, as he saw the little craft dancing lightly on the sunny waters.
"You are certainly not mistaken in supposing that is your boat.

I'd know her among a thousand," Rob assured him.

"Are you quite certain that she was not here last night, captain ?" "Just as sure as I am that yer and me is standin' here," rejoined the bewildered captain.

"I've sailed the seven seas in my day, and man and boy seen many queer things; but if this don't beat cock fightin', I'm an inky Senegambian!" The captain's voice had risen to a perfect roar as he uttered the last words, and a sort of jack-of-all-trades about the wharf, whose name was Hi Higgins, came shuffling up, asking what was the trouble.
"Trouble," roared the hermit of Topsail Island.