"I think I can understand how Eph feels about his stomach," grimaced
Jack, as he strode along. "I don't believe I'd balk, just now, at the
plainest food ever cooked. Why, I haven't eaten since this morning!"
The evening being rather warm, most of the houses, as Jack neared the
village, proved to have open windows. Lights shone, and the fishermen
and their families could be seen at table.
No one appeared in the street, at first. Jack strolled down the
principal street, looking into each house without much difficulty. Yet
the one face that he sought was not visible.
Down at the further end of the street Benson came upon a
tumble-down-looking grocery store.
"What kind of sandwiches can you put me up?" queried the submarine
boy, casually.
"Stranger, eh?" asked the man behind the counter, staring curiously.
"Yes; haven't you had any other strangers here lately?"
"Not as I knows on," replied the man, a shaggy, unkempt-looking fellow
of forty.
"None here to-day, eh?" asked Jack, taking out a half-dollar and toying
with it on the counter.
"Don't remember anybody very special," replied the storekeeper.
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