"That'll be all right," nodded Jack. "And now, Medway, have we paid
you enough?"
"Plenty," cheerfully responded the first driver, taking the hint and
leaving.
"Where did you take that woman?" questioned Jack, while the new driver
got out a bucket for watering his horses.
"Away down by the sea-coast. Know where the Cobtown fishing shanties
are?"
"No."
"Well, Cobtown is made up of three or four little villages of rickety
old houses. Some are occupied by fishermen, and some ain't. There's
three or four coves down that way fishing craft anchor in. It's a
lonely, wild bit of country, and some rough characters 'mong them
fishermen."
"Did you take your fare to any particular house or shanty down at
Cobtown?"
"Nope; she got out on the road, in sight o' Cobtown, an' walked along,
toting her old grip."
"What kind of a 'grip' was it?"
"An old brownish suit case."
"That's the one," nodded Eph.
As the driver busied himself over his team, the submarine boys drew
aside to talk over their new information.
"I reckon we're going to be too late," grumbled Captain Jack.
"What makes you think so?" Hal inquired.
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