Both Frank and Joe were delighted beyond measure with their boat, and at that moment would not have traded places with a king.
By the time they reached Barmet, the sky was cloudier than ever and there was a hint of rain, so the boys determined that they would not stay long in the village. They made a landing at the wharf and got out to stretch their legs, being greatly pleased in the meantime by the complimentary remarks passed by such villagers as were about at the time, on the appearance of their boat.
These were not empty compliments, for the Barmet people prided themselves on knowing a good boat when they saw one and there was nothing grudging in their approval of the Sleuth. Two old fishermen sat on the wharf with their feet dangling over the water and discussed the motorboat in every detail from bow to stern, agreeing that she combined strength and appearance in a remarkable degree. When they had finally affixed their seal of approval to the Sleuth they refilled their pipes and settled down to an endless series of reminiscences concerning boats that they had once sailed.
"The sky's beginning to look black," pointed out Frank to his brother after they had listened to a number of these tales. I guess we'd better be starting."
