"I can't buy your boat, because I havn't got the money. Those gold pieces do not belong to me."
"They do, too!" exclaimed Sam. "That's only an excuse of your'n for keepin' 'em. If you don't pay me twenty dollars fur my skiff, you sha'n't run any craft on this yere harbor."
Bob was a good deal astonished at this declaration, but he made no reply, for Sam was a bully, and he did not wish to irritate him. As to running any boat besides Sam's skiff on the harbor, the fisher-boy thought he should do as he pleased about that, although he knew that, if his rival chose to do so, he could make him a great deal of trouble. If the forty dollars in gold had belonged to him, he would gladly have given half of it for the skiff; but the money had been paid to him by mistake, and he had no right to use it.
"What do you say, Bobby Jennings?" demanded Sam, as he picked up his oar and sculled slowly away from the spot. "I'll give you one more chance, an' if you don't make a bargain with me, you'll always be sorry for it. I am listenin' with all the ears I've got."
"Well, if you are," exclaimed the fisher-boy, springing up in his scow, and extending his hand toward Sam, as if to give more emphasis to his words, "you can hear me repeat what I have already said to you a half-a-dozen times, that I have no right to touch that money, and I'm not going to do it. I've always been honest, and I always intend to be; so, you'll have to look somewhere else for a customer. I hope I have spoken plainly enough this time."
"All right," replied Sam. "If you ever git rich by actin' the dunce that ar way, jest let me know it. Let's go home, fellers."
The fisher-boy did not feel called upon to make any reply to these remarks. He got out his oar and followed slowly after his companions, wondering how a boy could be so unreasonable as Sam had shown himself to be, and trying his best to determine what the bully would decide to do in the matter. Being well acquainted with him, Bob knew that he was not above doing a mean action, and he was afraid that, assisted by some of his particular friends, he might attempt to take revenge on him.
Sam had every thing pretty much his own way in the harbor. Besides being a great fighting character, ready, at a moment's warning, to thrash any of the ferry-boys who acted contrary to his desires, he was an excellent oarsman, and any boy against whom he cherished a grudge found it up-hill work to make ferrying a paying business. On the other hand, his particular friends always secured plenty of customers. If Sam saw a passenger standing upon the wharf, instead of attending to his wants himself, he would say to one of his companions: "There's a chance fur you to make some money. Be lively, now, an' I'll see that nobody troubles, you;" and in this way, when the bully felt particularly good-natured and generous, he could put coppers into the pockets of any of the ferry-boys. Bob Jennings very seldom received any such favors at Sam's hands. Indeed, from some cause or another, he was not a favorite in Fishertown. The ferry-boys, as a general thing, were a "hard set," and Bob's feelings and aspirations were so different from theirs, that he did not care to associate with them any more than was necessary. This led the ferry-boys to believe that he thought himself better than they were—that he was very much "stuck-up," and that he needed "bringing down a peg or two." More than that, the fisher-boy did not believe in the principles which Sam pumped into him at every possible opportunity. He had had several stormy debates with the bully, on these points, and he had always been beaten. Sam could talk faster than Bob, and, besides, he always had ready an unanswerable argument. "Bobby Jennings," the bully would say, "look at you, an' then look at me. You believe that a feller hadn't oughter take any thing that he don't make by hard work, while I say that he had oughter use his wits, an' make his livin' the easiest way he can; an' the easier he makes it, the smarter he is. Now, who's the best off in the world? You've got only that leaky ole scow, that I wouldn't give fifteen cents fur, an' I own this yawl, which is painted up nice, and furnished with cushions fur my passengers to set down on. It's worth every cent of sixty dollars. Then I've got a skiff worth twenty dollars more. Now, who's the richest man? I am, in course; an' that's what comes of bein' sharp."
The fisher-boy did not know how to answer this argument, but still his faith in the old saying, which he had so often heard repeated by his mother—that "Honesty is the best policy"—was not shaken. He knew that, with Sam, being "sharp" meant being dishonest. It meant slipping around in a boat, of a dark night, and picking up any little thing that happened to be lying on the wharf, such as lumber, pieces of cordage, bits of iron, and even articles of freight, if any were exposed. That was what Sam meant by "being sharp;" but Bob, who had been taught to call things by their right names, pronounced it stealing. This, of course, made the bully very angry, and it was one reason why he so cordially disliked the fisher-boy. The latter, however, could get along very well without any assistance from Sam Barton. He had established a reputation, and he determined to render himself worthy of it. If he told one of his customers that a fish weighed five pounds exactly, and that it was fresh, the man never stopped to inquire: "Are you sure that you are not trying to cheat me, now?" but paid his money, took his fish, and went away satisfied. If there was any thing Bob was proud of, besides his skill as an oarsman, it was this reputation for honesty. His companions might make sport of his boat, or call him a ragamuffin, and he would bear it all good-naturedly, but let one of them hint that he was a poor boatman, or that he was not as honest as he ought to be, and the fisher-boy was aroused in an instant. This was the reason he had spoken so sharply to Sam, when the latter proposed that Bob should buy his skiff. He was angry; and he was troubled, too—not by the threats the bully had made, but by the thought that Sam Barton, or any one else, should, for an instant, have believed him mean enough to make use of the money which had come into his possession by accident.
"No, sir," said Bob to himself, "I won't do it. My motto hits this case exactly; and I'll stick to it, if I never get a better boat than this old scow."