He was loath to give up the search, and after his first hasty hunt, went over every foot of the plank walk of the bridge, and even under it.
"It must have slipped from my pocket, and the wind must have blown it into the water," he thought, bitterly. "That was a pretty dear quarrel, especially as it was not in the least of my making."
Thinking he might possibly find the bill floating on the water, the young bridge tender sprang into his rowboat, the Martha, which was tied up to the ironwork under the bridge, and pulled around the stonework and some distance down into Silver Lake.
He found nothing, and inside of ten minutes had to go back to his post of duty and collect toll from several people who were coming over from Eastport.
"I'm out twenty dollars, and that's all there is to it," he muttered to himself. "It's too bad. Why can't Percy Paget stay away and mind his own business?"
The remainder of the afternoon passed quietly, saving for the mild excitement of the working folks going and coming after factory hours, and at dark Bob Sanderson came on duty.
"The sloop is gettin' on finely," said the old fellow, in response to Ralph's inquiry. "The woodwork is about done, and I'll paint her first thing in the morning."
"You want to make a first-class job of it, Mr. Sanderson. I know Mr. Kelsey will pay the price."
"I'm a-going to, Ralph. What did he give you for hauling him from the water?"
"Twenty dollars."