"Let's announce the bonfire for to-night," urged Greg.
"We haven't any such sum of money, Mr. Driggs," Dick went on.
"Too bad, boys, for you'd probably have a lot of fun in this craft. If you want to sell it, maybe I could allow you four dollars for the craft as she stands."
"We'd hate to part with the canoe," Dick continued.
"I know, I know," remarked Driggs sympathetically. "It was wanting a boat badly when I was a boy that drove me into the boat business. But I didn't have to handle birch bark then, or my first craft would have sunk me. Say, boys, great joke how young Ripley got stung so badly, wasn't it?"
"I know about how he feels," remarked Dick.
"Yes, of course," smiled Driggs. "But you boys are entitled to some honest sympathy. I don't imagine young Ripley will get much sympathy, will he?"
"Not a heap," Greg Holmes answered.
"Well," resumed Driggs, "I ain't a mite sorry for the boy and his make-believe pony. But I wish I could help you with your boat, for I know you haven't any loose money to throw around like young Rip."
Driggs dug his hands deep into his pockets and wrinkled his brow in thought.