It was four or five minutes before Curtis came back, bearing a tray on which were three tall glasses, each containing a brownish liquid.

“The stuff isn’t iced, yet it’s fairly cold,” the bearded one explained.  “Well, gentlemen, here’s to a pleasant evening!”

Hal, who was thirsty, took a long swallow of the sarsaparilla, finding the flavor excellent.  Jack drank more slowly, though he enjoyed the beverage.

“If you don’t mind,” suggested Curtis, “I will light a cigar.  And say, by the way, gentlemen, what if we take a little walk down to my beach?  Before showing you the models I spoke of, I’d like to have your opinion of the lines of my sloop.”

“We’ll go down and take a look with great pleasure,” Jack Benson agreed, rising.  “And I’m glad, sir, that you’re able to show us more courtesy than we were able to offer you to-night.”

“Oh, that was all right,” declared their host, smiling good-humoredly.  “Rules are rules, and you have your owners to please.  No hard feelings on that score, I assure you.”

Curtis led the way through a dark yard down to a pier.  Moored there lay a handsome white sloop, some forty-two feet in length—­a boat of a good and seaworthy knockabout type.

“This is a sloop, all right,” Jack agreed, cordially.  “Rather different from the lumbering fishing craft hereabouts.”

“Oh, hah, yum!” yawned Hal, at which Curtis shot a quick glance at him.

“Come on board,” invited Curtis, stepping down to the deck of the craft.  “Let me show you what a comfortable cruising cabin I have.”

“Hi, oh, yow!” yawned Hal, again.  “Jack, I think I shall enjoy my rest to-night.”

“Same case here,” agreed Benson, stifling a yawn that came as though in answer to Hal’s.

“I won’t keep you long, gentlemen, if I am boring you,” agreed their host, amiably.  “Now, I’ll go below first and light up.  So!  Now, come down and take a look.  Do you find many yacht cabins more comfortable than this one?”

It was, indeed, a cozy place.  Up forward stood a miniature sideboard, complete in every respect with glass and silver.  In the center of the cabin was a folding table.  There were locker seats and inviting looking cushions.  The trim was largely of mahogany.  On either side was a broad, comfortable-looking berth.

“Just get into that berth and try it, Mr. Hastings,” urged the bearded one.

“I—­I’m afraid to,” confessed Hal, stifling another yawn.

“Afraid?”

“Very sure thing!”

“Why?”

“I’m—­hah-ho-hum!” yawned Hal Hastings.  “I’m afraid I’d—­yow!—­abuse your hospitality by going to sleep.”

Jack Benson leaned against the edge of the opposite berth, feeling unaccountably drowsy.

“Oh, nonsense,” laughed Curtis.  “Just pile into that berth for a moment, Hastings, and see what a soft, restful place it is.  I’ll agree to pull you out, if necessary.”