CHAPTER IX.
THE HYDROPLANE QUEERLY RECOVERED Seldom had the Flying Fish been urged to greater speed than she was a short time after the discovery of the looting of the scouts' armory.
She fairly flew across the smooth waters of the inlet and out on to the Atlantic swells, leaving a clean, sweeping bow-wave as she cut her way along.

Her four young occupants, for Tubby had been called on and notified of the occurrences of the night, were, however, wrapped in slickers borrowed from the yacht club, so that the showers of spray which fell about them had little effect on them.
The run to Topsail Island was made in record time, and as they drew near the little hummock of tree and shrub-covered land the boys could perceive that something unusual had happened.

A figure which even at a distance they recognized as that of Captain job Hudgins was down on the little wharf, and had apparently been on the lookout there for some time.

A closer view revealed the captain waving frantically.
"Something's up, all right," remarked Tubby, above the roar of the motor-boat's engine.
The others said nothing, but kept their gaze riveted on the captain's figure.

With the skill of a veteran boatman, Rob brought the Flying Fish round in a graceful curve and ran her cleanly up to the wharf without the slightest jolt or jar.
"Ahoy, lads, I'm glad yer've come!" exclaimed the captain, as he caught the painter line thrown out to him by Merritt, and skillfully made the boat fast.
"Why, what has happened ?" demanded Rob, as he sprang on to the wharf, followed by the others.
"Happened ?" repeated the captain.