"Who is Buck Younger?" Barbara asked, her curiosity piqued.

"Fellow we knew in Port Dixon. He fought," Greg said briefly.

"Brawled," Whit corrected. "Not the sort of character you'd bring home to meet Mother."

"Or even Father," Greg said with finality, and the conversation swung to a more pleasant topic.

It was decided that Barbara and Regina would ride home with Greg while Whit remained aboard the houseboat overnight.

"I want to talk to Mr. Dodson again first thing in the morning. He's to transfer all the papers for the Albatross to me then," Whit said.

It was a reasonable explanation-but after a look at his set expression, Barbara guessed that he intended to batten down the hatches and stand ready to repel boarders.

"He could do it, too," she told herself. Somehow she felt as if her acquaintanceship with Whit had spanned months, instead of one short evening.

I'd hate to see anything happen to him, she thought, shuddering a bit despite the balminess of the June night. Unbidden, a vision of the anonymous "Mr. Smith" arose. She would be a long time forgetting his scowl as he stalked in fury out of the cabin. And then there was Buck Younger, perhaps. Someone else, certainly, who had displayed an undue amount of interest in the Albatross.

There had to be a reason-and an awfully good one, too. Some very definite purpose lay behind the various attempts to gain title to the Albatross.

Something is on that houseboat! The words exploded from Barbara's subconscious. The longer she mulled over the idea, the more certain she became that this was the explanation. What else could account for the houseboat's vast popularity? But what could this "something" be? And what was it doing aboard the Albatross?

While Greg and Regina lay in bed later that evening, they talked about the Albatross, but they didn't worry themselves with what might be aboard the houseboat. They talked instead about what a nice restaurant the place could eventually turn into.