"The price is satisfactory," he said. "When can you start?"
"In an hour," was the answer.
After promising to meet the boys at the floating dock in an hour's time, the owner of the motor boat took his departure, and the two lads dropped into a smoky and smelly restaurant for supper.
The place was foul with evil language as well as evil smells, and the boys did not remain long. Instead of sitting down at the table and ordering their meal, they bought such provisions as they could get and took their way to the water front. When they sat down to eat their rather unpalatable repast, they saw that a boy of about their own size and age was loitering not far away.
"I'll gamble you a five cent piece," Tommy whispered to Frank, "that that is a Boy Scout! What do you say?"
"You're on!" exclaimed Frank.
Tommy struck three times on the planking of the dock with his open hand. Instantly there came back to his ears the low snarling voice of a bulldog. Then footsteps advanced down the dock, and the boy soon stood close to the others.
"You're a Beaver?" he asked.
"And you're a Bulldog!" said Tommy.
The boys presented their hands, palm out, in the full salute of the Boy Scouts and then stood examining each other's faces.