And then there was a big,
freckle-faced youth named Globbins who spent most of his waking hours in
the driver's seat of a high-powered roadster automobile and who ran the
fellows many miles over the roads and was never, seemingly, more
contented than when every available inch of the car was occupied. Its
normal capacity was three, but by careful packing it was possible to get
seven in, on or about it. In return, Globbins was entertained aboard the
_Adventurer_ and given a thirty-mile cruise one evening, but it was easy
to see that he wasn't really enjoying himself and that his hands fairly
ached for the feel of that corrugated wheel of the roadster. They had
such a jolly time at Camden that they promised faithfully to stop there
again on the return voyage, and really meant to keep the promise when
they chugged out of the harbour one crisp morning and turned the
cruisers' bows eastward for the run across Penobscot Bay.
They lazed that day, for, as Steve said, it was too fine to hurry.
Dinner was eaten with the two boats side by side, with only fenders
between, in a fairy pool. They found the place quite by accident when
exploring the shore of an island whose name they are to this day
ignorant of. There was an entrance to the tiny bay through which a
schooner might barely have scraped her way.
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