It was a flat leather book, such as is used by some men in which to carry their money or papers. Nat idly glanced at it as the mate restored it to his pocket. Then the boy caught sight of something that made his heart beat quickly.
For printed in gold letters on the outside of the wallet was a name, and the name was that of his dead father, James Morton!
"That pocketbook! Where did you get it?" he eagerly asked of the mate.
"Pocketbook? What pocketbook?"
"The one that dropped from your pocket just now."
"That? Why, that's mine. I've had it a good while."
"But it has my father's name on it! I saw it. It is just like one he used to carry. He always had it with him. Let me see it. Perhaps it has some of his papers in it!"
Nat was excited. He reached out his hand, as if to take the wallet.
"You must be dreaming," exclaimed the mate, and Nat noticed that his hands trembled. "That is my pocketbook. It has no name on it."
"But I saw it," insisted Nat.