Tom never once slackened his pace until he reached an unfrequented part of the wharf, where he sat down and pulled the letter out of his pocket.
"What did I tell you, Bob?" he asked, in a husky whisper, for he was so excited that he could scarcely speak plainly. "Here's our fortune at last. You are not sorry now that you risked your five dollars, are you?"
"Of course not," replied Bob, in the same excited whisper. "I'm glad of it."
"It takes me to get up schemes, don't it?" continued Tom. "Now, there isn't another boy in Newport who would have thought of this."
"Open the letter," interrupted Bob; "I am in a great hurry to see that money!"
"O, you open it," replied Tom, handing the letter to the fisher-boy, and throwing himself at full length on the wharf. "I can enjoy it so much better if you read it." Bob tore open the envelope, and took out the letter, expecting, of course, that the first thing that met his eye would be the check for five thousand dollars. But to his astonishment, no such document appeared. A few words were scrawled upon half a sheet of soiled note paper, and Bob read them aloud, as follows:
We have made every effort to ascertain the whereabouts of your letter containing the ten dollars, but without success. We are sorry to say that it has, no doubt, miscarried.
Send on ten dollars more for the lucky package.
Tom started up and looked at Bob without speaking.