Bill Bolton and the Winged Cartwheels

BY Lieutenant Noel Sainsbury, Jr.
Author of Bill Bolton, Flying Midshipman Bill Bolton and the Flying Fish Bill Bolton and the Hidden Danger
THE GOLDSMITH PUBLISHING CO. CHICAGO
Copyright, 1933 The Goldsmith Publishing Company MADE IN U. S. A.
To Ashton Sanborn, who is even a finer fellow than I have depicted, and who has done even more exciting and more interesting things than are narrated in this story.
BY LIEUT. NOEL SAINSBURY, JR.
“You and I, Bill,” said Osceola, “are on top of the world and throwing rocks at rainbows!” The young Seminole chief, stooping quickly, picked something out of the short grass at the side of the Bolton driveway. “A couple of months ago I was a slave in a cypress swamp without a dollar to my name. Now I stumble over them!”
“That’s queer,” said Bill, staring at the silver disk in his friend’s hand. “It’s one of those cartwheels they hurl at you out west instead of dollar bills.”
“Nobody,” declared Osceola, “ever hurled dollar bills at me!”
“I mean,” said Bill, “it’s queer finding one here. Wake up—don’t let this new-found wealth cramp your usual technic. You’re in New Canaan, Connecticut, now—not far away on the western pl—”
“There’s something queerer than that about this cartwheel—look!”
Bill took the extended silver piece and examined it. The coin seemed genuine enough. Minted in 1897, the head of Liberty was portrayed on one side and backed by the well-known National Bird, who flaunted a streamer of E Pluribus Unum in his beak. But this particular silver dollar was no longer good as “coin of the realm.” Across Liberty’s face a pair of spread wings was cut deep into the metal, while the American eagle was defaced by two numerals, 1 and 3.