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Standish, Burt L., [pseud.]

"Frank Merriwell's Reward"

But we will come back to-night."
The landlord's face did not give the proposition an eager welcome,
though one of his business tenets was never to turn a guest away.
So the launch steamed away to Sandy Hook, leaving Glen Springs and its
strange and unsolved puzzle behind.
Frank only partly enjoyed the trip.
But for that seemingly impenetrable mystery, the trip to Sandy Hook,
with the visit of inspection which followed, would have been jolly.
However, there was so much to be happy and thankful for, anyway, that
the spirits of the party partook largely of the brightness of the day.
The run of the speedy launch up the coast was pleasant, and at Sandy
Hook they found their fellow students awaiting them, and were given a
right royal welcome by Captain Isaac Heath, the officer in charge of the
proving-grounds.
"Say, fellows, this is great!" Danny warbled, as Captain Heath escorted
them to where the big guns were. "I always did like big guns!"
"You're such a big gun yourself!" sneered Bink, under his breath.
"Binky, if my brain caliber required no more than a number five hat, as
yours does, I'd sing low about big guns!"
"Number five hat? Why----"
"This ten-inch breech-loading rifle takes a charge of one hundred and
ten pounds of Dupont smokeless powder and a projectile weighing five
hundred and seventy-five pounds," Captain Heath was explaining, as they
stopped in front of the big seacoast defender.


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