"I am sorry, but I can see no other way than for you to accept the situation," said Mr. Gibbons. "By the way, what sort of a penman is that uncle of yours?"
"He writes a very poor hand, but I can make out to read it. Why do you ask?"
"Oh, nothing, but I just happened to think of it. You haven't seen a copy of the will, have you? Well, I will have a copy here to-morrow, and you can see what your father says in that codicil. I know he didn't intend to take away everything you had."
"Then he wouldn't have taken away my boat?"
"Certainly not. Nor your ponies, either."
"Do you think I would be doing wrong if I should go down there and run my boat up to Ben's house, where I am living now?"
"Of course not," replied the lawyer, glad to bring the interview to a close. "I will go with you."
Mr. Gibbons put on his hat, and together they started toward the place where the boat was moored. It was on the beach opposite an old fisherman's shanty, and when they arrived there they were gratified to find the man sitting on the bench beside the door, enjoying his pipe. He was delighted to see Bob. He remembered that, just before he started to school, he had given the old fisherman a few pieces of silver, with instructions to keep an eye on his schooner, and had always found everything all right about her when he returned.
"The top of the morning to you, Mister Bob," said the man, extending his hand. "The schooner is all right and tight. Be you wanting her this morning?"
"There hasn't been anybody aboard of her since I left?" said Bob.