Chained and padlocked to a pile was a heavy dory. It was nicked and scarred, and badly in need of paint. Altogether, the boat did not look very seaworthy. It had a motor, but the Hardys doubted that it would run.

21 "My boat's not so fancy as your Sleuth," Sleuth," Chet spoke up, "but I can go fishing in 'er any Chet spoke up, "but I can go fishing in 'er any time I want to."

"Do you own that boat?" Frank asked.

"Yep. Bought 'er only an hour ago. I've named 'er the Bloodhound." Bloodhound."

"Coin" to give the Sleuth Sleuth compet.i.tion, eh?" grinned Joe. "Well, how about taking us for compet.i.tion, eh?" grinned Joe. "Well, how about taking us for a little ride up the bay?"

"Sure thing," Chet answered enthusiastically. "You fellows start the engine while I get the oars."

"Oars?" Frank asked, not seeing any.

"They're in that boathouse over there," the Morton boy replied, pointing. "Came with the Bloodhound in case of emergency." in case of emergency."

In his delight he trotted off at a much faster pace than was usual for him. Frank and Joe inspected the motor, which had to be cranked by hand. They turned it over until their arms ached. Then they tried priming it with gasoline from the tank, but it refused even to sputter.

When Chet returned and heard the bad news, he did not seem at all downcast. The stout boy said confidently that, with a little work on the motor, it would go.

"Can't understand it, though," he remarked. "That fellow a.s.sured me it was in good running order."

"What fellow?" asked Joe.

"The one I bought the boat from." After a mo22 ment's reflection Chet added, "But I s'pose I should have tried it first to see that everything was all right."

Frank and Joe agreed, but said nothing. Chet was a bright boy, but sometimes his hindsight was better than his foresight.

"Let's go for a ride, anyway," Chet urged. "You fellows can row."

"We?" Frank laughed.

"Well, after all, there are two of you, and there's only one of me!"

It was finally agreed the boys would take turns. Chet grumblingly took the oars and started rowing. Presently Frank, seated in the bow, noticed a built-in metal box. He tried to raise the lid, but it was locked.

"What's in here?" he asked.

"Don't know," Chet replied. "Haven't looked yet."

"Got a key?"

Sheepishly the stout boy admitted that none had come with the boat. He said he would be sure to ask for one when the man brought the registration and the bill of sale. The Hardys thought Chet very unbusinesslike to have paid for his boat before getting the papers.

"When are you going to see the fellow?" Joe asked.

"In half an hour. He had to get the papers at the bank," Chet answered, starting to puff.

"How about one of you fellows takin' a turn at the oars?"

"Thought you invited us to be your guests,"

23 laughed Frank. "People don't usually make their guests work."

He got up, however, to take Chet's place, but be. fore he could he was thrown off balance by the rocking of the boat. The water, which had been calm when the boys started out, now had become choppy. Waves slapped furiously against the side of the Bloodhound. Bloodhound.

Chet quickly pulled the boat around so the next wave would strike it head on. Suddenly the old dory gave a convulsive shiver. A moment later water began to pour into it.

"The boat's sprung a leak!" cried Joe.

It was even worse than that. In the next second two of the seams split wide open, and water gushed through them in a deluge.

"Jump!" warned Frank. "Jump!"

Chet seemed paralyzed for the moment. As the dory began to sink, the Hardys dived overboard. Chet sat still, like a captain who sticks to his post and goes down with his ship.

Only when the water reached his mouth did the stout boy become aware that tragedy would overtake him if he did not start swimming.

Grimly the three boys set out for sh.o.r.e, as the Bloodhound Bloodhound sank to the bottom of sank to the bottom of Barmet Bay in twelve feet of water. Swimming was difficult in the choppy water but at last they reached the dock. Chet sat down and held his face in his hands. He Was sad and chagrined, and almost exhausted.

24 "It's a shame," said Frank kindly. "I'd like to help you, Chet."

"Guess there's nothing we can do about it," the boy muttered. "All my good money gone."

"Maybe not."

"What do you mean?"

"The fellow who sold you the boat ought to make good on it."

"Gee whiz, you're right!" cried Chet, jumping up. "When he comes, I'm going to tell him his old boat wasn't worth a cent!"

Although the boys waited around until their clothes dried, the stranger did not appear.

Chet had become more dejected by the minute, but suddenly he brightened.

"You fellows can find that guy for me," he said to the Hardys. "You can find him better'n I can. You're detectives."

"Why do you need a detective to find him?" Joe asked.

" 'Cause I-''cause I don't know who he is!"

"You don't know-you mean, you bought a boat without finding out the owner's name?"

" 'Fraid so," Chet said sadly.

"Maybe the fellow didn't own the boat. He might have rented or even stolen it," Frank said, worried.

Chet gave a sickly yelp and turned pale. "Gosh, then !-I'd be liable," he gulped.

"We'll not think about such a thing now," said Frank. "But let's try to find him."

25 The old man at the boathouse was very sympathetic when he heard their story. He scratched his head thoughtfully, then said slowly: "Mebbe I kin help you at that."

"You can?" Chet cried. "How?"

"Seems to me the feller that sold you the boat said he was agoin' to git one o' them express busses out o' Bayport jist about now."

"Wow!" yelled Joe. "Maybe we can catch him!"

The three boys ran all the way to the bus terminal, Chet red-faced and puffing. Reaching it, they found the bus had pulled out a few minutes before.

"What's the next stop?" Joe inquired at the ticket office.

"Lewiston."

Joe reported this to the others, adding, "Lewis-ton's ten miles from here."

"Can't do anything without a car," said Frank.

"We might use Dad's," Joe suggested.

"We got to do it," said Chet excitedly. "I'll buy you gas, I'll fix your tires, I'll even------"

The Acme garage was in the next block. The three boys raced there. Fortunately the car was ready, so they drove off at once. Reaching the outskirts of Bayport, Frank headed westward. Just as they came into Lewiston, they caught up with the bus.

"You get on, Chet, and find your man," Frank suggested, as the driver stopped in the center of town.

26 Chet's teeth were chattering. "Wh-what'll I say to him?"

"You want your money back, don't you?" Joe asked. "Go on! Hurry!"

Excited and worried, Chet Morton got out of the roadster and boarded the bus.

CHAPTER IV.

Stolen Hardware.

"maybe we ought to go help Chet," Frank said to Joe, observing that their friend seemed to be having an argument with the bus driver.

The operator had no intention of delaying his trip while the inquisitive youth looked over the pa.s.sengers.

"If you want to go back in there, pay your fare!" the man demanded.

"But I don't want to ride," the stout boy said. "I just want to see------"

"You give me thirty cents, or get off!"

Just then Frank Hardy appeared at the door of the bus. He inquired in a long-winded fashion what the next stop would be, and how often the express busses ran. Chet took the hint; his friend was trying to gain time for him. He stepped farther back into the bus. In his excitement the stout boy came down hard on a woman's foot. She cried out angrily, attracting everybody's attention.

"Hey, you!" the driver called, as his thoughts were brought back to the youth. "Get off this bus!"

In despair Chet, who had not yet seen all the pa.s.sengers, was about to produce the thirty-cent fare when Joe put one foot up on the platform. He pretended to push Frank aside, and asked the driver: "What time do you get to Ellsville?"

"This bus doesn't go there."

"Then how can I get to that town?"

"Guess you'll have to walk." The driver was in bad humor. How could he keep his schedule with a lot of boys delaying him? He turned to Chet. "Are you ridin' or leavin'?"

"I'm leavin'," Chet told him. "And thanks for the information."

The three boys hopped to the curb. The driver slammed the door and pulled away.

"Information?" he muttered to himself. "What information did I give that kid?"

Chet and the Hardys walked slowly toward their car. The stout lad reported that the man who had sold him the dory was not on the bus.

"What am I going to do now?" he asked, despair in his voice.

"Frank and I could leave you and go about our own business," said Joe, winking at his brother.

"But you wouldn't do that!" Chet cried. "Think of all the money------"

Frank placed a hand on his friend's shoulder. "Joe is only kidding, Chet. What say we get out 29 the Sleuth Sleuth and inquire up and down Barmet Bay about your boat? Maybe we can find and inquire up and down Barmet Bay about your boat? Maybe we can find out where it came from," Frank suggested.

"Now you're talking!" Chet looked relieved.

They headed back toward Bayport. Reaching an 'inlet, the boys went to a boathouse the Hardys rented for the Sleuth. Sleuth. It was a sleek-looking motorboat which they had bought with It was a sleek-looking motorboat which they had bought with reward money received for solving a mystery about an old mill. Chet eyed his friends' boat a little enviously, but he knew they had earned it.

"Which way shall we go?" asked Joe as soon as they were aboard. He took the wheel and headed the Sleuth Sleuth into deeper water. into deeper water.

"I'd say toward the ocean," Frank replied. "Chet's boat was a fishing dory, and probably was owned by someone who went out to sea in her."

"Hear that, Chet?" said Joe, with a wink. "Frank's got his old logic working."

"Wish I had his brains," Chet replied.

"Oh, cut it out," Frank demanded.

The three boys settled down to serious business. They inquired at every house and dock for a mile along the waterfront, but no one knew anything about the dory.

"Let's head for the other sh.o.r.e and see what we Can find out," Chet suggested.