could tell where he lives, and then we could find out something about him. As it is now we can't even tell who he is, and there are a lot of men who look like him around Lighthouse Cove."
"Well, what's your plan?" asked Frank, carefully pulling up his crab line, in the hope that the big fellow had again taken the meat. One was there, but it was so small that he shook it off, not wanting to net it.
"I say let's row close over to where he is," suggested Sammy. "Then, when he starts off, we can go ashore and follow him."
"Maybe he's got a boat hidden somewhere on shore," said Bob. "Let's take a look."
The boys scanned the beach, but could see nothing of another craft. Meanwhile, the old man in the clump of evergreens continued to dig away. He paid no attention to the boys.
"Tell you what it is," said Sammy, at length, "we've got to play foxy now. We don't want any more of that hermit business."
"What do you mean?" asked Frank.
"Well, you know what happened when we followed that old man on Pine Island. He pushed us over a cliff into a snow bank."
"Ha! Ha!" laughed Bob.
"What's the matter?" demanded Sammy. "I don't see anything to laugh at."
"You don't?" Well, there's no snow bank, for one thing."
"Well, you now what I mean," said Sammy. "He might make trouble for us. I say we'd better be careful."
"That's what I say, too," agreed Frank. "Now the best way, I think, will be to let our boat drift. We can pretend
