“What makes you so interested in the sloop?” went on Tom curiously.
“She belongs to me, Tom.”
“What! Where did you ever raise money enough to buy her?”
“I didn’t buy her; she was given to me.”
Tom Darrow was more taken aback than ever. I enjoyed his amazement, and told my story.
“I declare, Rube, you’re quite a hero, and no mistake!” cried the fisherman. “So he gave you the sloop for the job? It was money easily earned.”
“It wasn’t earned at all, Tom. But the question is, what has become of the craft? Unless I find her she won’t do me any good.”
“True enough; but you are sure to find her sooner or later. She can’t leave the lake very well, and all you’ve got to do is to keep your eyes open.”
“I don’t know about that,” I replied, shaking my head. “They might change her rigging a bit, and paint her over, and I would have a job recognizing her.”
“So they might if they were sneaks enough to do so; and I reckon some of them north-enders ain’t too good to try it on. Tell you what I’ll do.”