Bob seated himself in the stern of his scow, panting hard after his long race, and jingled the money in his closed hand. He had not yet looked at it, but he knew that the gentleman had kept his promise, for he could feel the two half-dollars with his fingers. He had not owned a great deal of money of that description, and he did not think he could be deceived.
"How much did he give you, Bobby?" inquired Sam Barton, pulling up along-side the scow. "A feller can't scare up a passenger like that every day, an' I'm sorry I didn't beat you in the race."
"I am not," said Bob, "you don't know how much good this dollar will do me!"
"A dollar!" exclaimed Sam. "Did he give you a whole dollar?"
"Yes, sir, two silver half-dollars. See there!" said Bob, opening his hand. "Don't they look—"
The fisher-boy suddenly paused, and gazed first at the money, and then at his companion, who stood with eyes and mouth open, the very picture of astonishment. Instead of two silver half-dollars, Bob held in his hand two twenty-dollar gold pieces.
"Bobby Jennings!" exclaimed Sam, who was the first to recover from his surprise, "ain't me an' you the luckiest boys in Newport? I got a hundred dollars fur haulin' a feller out of the water, an' now you get forty dollars in gold, fur bringin' a passenger across the harbor. You can throw away that ar ole scow now, Bobby, an' buy my skiff. I'll sell her to you fur twenty dollars, an' any body who has seed her, will tell you that she's cheap at that. Is it a bargain?"
The fisher-boy did not answer; indeed, he did not seem to be aware that Sam was speaking to him. He sat looking at the two bright pieces of gold, as if he had suddenly lost all power to turn his eyes from them.
"I say, Bobby, is it a bargain?" repeated Sam.