"Everything O.K., I hope," observed the man in the apron, as he stood a glass and a bottle on the table.
"O.K.," confirmed Sam. "I might have to have another message sent here. Will it be all right?"
"Sure; as many as you like. It ain't costing me anything."
The boatman drank his ginger ale hastily, threw a quarter on the table, and went out.
Now, whistling softly and complacently, he strolled through a more pretentious part of the town, halting occasionally to examine store windows. He entered one place, made some trivial purchases, and offered in payment therefor a five-dollar bill that had until recently reposed in the purse of the master mechanic.
"Yep; a mighty useful pal," he murmured as he gathered up his change.
"How's that?" asked the storekeeper.
"I was just telling myself that money is a man's best friend," said the boatman as he strolled out.
The storekeeper watched the departing customer, then turned to the cash-drawer and made a second examination of the five-dollar note.
Sam made his way directly to the wharf where he had moored his launch, stepped aboard and made ready to cast off. Then he bethought himself of his engine.