"Come along," he said, with desperate energy, as he led them away from the field. On the sidewalk he halted.
"We've got it, fellows!" he exulted. "We've got it! Hooray!"
"Yes; we've got it, if we've got eleven dollars more—-which we haven't," Greg remarked.
"We've eleven dollars more to raise," Prescott went on hurriedly.
"Roughly, that's two dollars apiece. We must hustle, too."
"No hustle for mine," yawned Dan Dalzell. "I'll just step down to my bank and get the money. Will two dollars be enough, Dick?"
"Stop that talk," ordered Dave Darrin, getting a grip on Dan's shirt collar. "If you don't, I'll thrash you! Dick has a scheme. Out with it, old chap!"
"The scheme is simple enough," said Prescott hurriedly. "We must each get two dollars, and get it like lightning. That will come to a dollar over the amount we need, but we shall need the extra dollar, anyway. So hustle! Borrow the money from anyone who'll let you have it. Offer to work the money out at any time—-any old kind of work. The only point is to come running back with the money. Get it in any honest way that you can, and don't one of you dare to fail, or we'll lose our deposit money and our canoe. Start!"
Nor did Prescott lose any time himself, but raced down the street, turned into Main Street and ran on until he came to the little cross street on which stood the bookstore conducted by his father and mother.
"Mercy, Dick! What makes you run so?" asked Mrs. Prescott. Dick was rejoicing to discover that there was, at this moment, no customer in the store.
"Mother," replied her son, "I want to borrow three dollars this minute. I'll be responsible for it—-I'll pay it back. Please let me have it—-in a hurry!"