I could tell him the first, but not the last,
for there's no tellin' what delays there'll be on the road.
"He was a queer man-- a very queer man. I couldn't make him out. An'
he went off in a hurry, as if he was afraid some one would see him.
An' he shut the door, jest as if you boys would bother him,-- Well, it
takes all sorts of people to make a world. I don't s'pose you or I
will ever meet him again."
Mr. Hitter was not destined to, but the boys had not seen the last of
the strangely acting man, who soon afterward played a strange part in
their lives.
"What you chaps after, anyhow?" went on the freight agent, when he had
put the money in the safe.
"Our motor boat's smashed!" exclaimed Bob. "We want damages for her!
How are we going to get 'em?"
"Not guilty, boys!" exclaimed the agent holding up his hands, as if he
thought wild-west robbers were confronting him. "You can search me.
Nary a boat have I got, an' you can turn my pockets inside out!" and
he turned slowly around, like an exhibition figure in a store show
window.
CHAPTER II
A DESPERATE RACE
"WELL," remarked Mr. Hitter, after a pause, during which the boys,
rather surprised at his conduct, stood staring at him, "well, why
don't you look in my hip pocket. Maybe I've got a boat concealed
there."
"I didn't mean to go at you with such a rush," apologized Jerry. "But
you see--"
"That's all right," interrupted the freight agent. "Can I put my hands
down now? The blood's all runnin' out of 'em, an' they feel as if they
was goin' to sleep.
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