“The same night Mr. Cruger perfected his plan. Next day Mr. Cruger proposed a fishing party. Mr. Gould declined to go. He had concluded, he said, not to take an interest in young Livingston’s brickyard, and would return to the city on the afternoon train. A business engagement, involving quite a sum of money, had to be kept. His host argued with him, but for a time to no purpose. The saturnine little man had a tremendous amount of determination in his composition. Finally a compromise was effected, it being agreed that he should put Gould off at a station in time to catch the train. That he must catch it without fail, he most emphatically declared.
“The day passed on and we were off Sing Sing, when we saw the smoke of the coming train. We had been running free before the wind, but immediately Mr. Cruger, who was at the stick, shoved it down; we hauled in on the sheets and headed for the Eastern shore. Mr. Gould was by this time on his feet, clinging to the windward coaming, the deepest anxiety pictured on his face. Just there the water shoals rapidly. We were within fifty feet of the shore, opposite the railroad depot. The time had now come for Mr. Cruger’s revenge.
“‘Let go the main and jib sheets!’ he shouted. ‘Down with your board!’
“Never was order more eagerly obeyed. The sheets whizzed through the blocks, ready hands slipped out the pin and jammed down the centre-board, and in a second the yacht, with a grating shock and shaking sails, came to a stand, fast on the sandy bottom. There she was bound to stay until the obstructing board was lifted again.
“‘What’s the matter?’ exclaimed Mr. Gould, anxiously. Of course he had not detected the ruse, for he knew no more about the working of a yacht than a sea cow does about differential calculus.”
“‘I’m afraid we’re aground,’ replied Mr. Cruger, with a fine assumption of sadness. ‘Boys, get out the sweeps and push her off.’
“We struggled with the long oars in a great show of ardor, while Gould watched us in breathless suspense, between hope and fear. But as we had taken care to put the sweeps overboard astern, the harder we shoved the faster we stuck. The little man’s suspicions were not in the slightest degree aroused and he turned in despair to Mr. Cruger.
“‘What shall I do!’ he almost wailed. ‘I’ve got to catch that train!’
“‘Then,’ replied the joker, solemnly, ‘you’ll have to wade or swim.’
“Already the train was in sight, two miles away, and whatever was to be done had to be done quickly. As I have said, there was plenty of grit in the embryo railroad king, and quick as a wink he was out of his sable clothes and standing before us clad only in his aggressively scarlet undergarments. Holding his precious broadcloth suit above his head, he stepped into the water, which, shallow as it was, reached to the armpits of the little gentleman. Then he started for the shore, his short, thin legs working back and forth in a most comical fashion as he strove to quicken his pace. The station platform was crowded with people, and very soon the strange figure approaching them was descried. A peal of laughter from 500 throats rolled over the water to us, the ladies hiding their blushes behind parasols and fans. The men shouted with laughter. Finally the wader reached the base of the stone wall, and for a moment covered with confusion—and but little else—stood upon the rock, one scarlet leg uplifted, looking for all the world like a flamingo on the shore of a Florida bayou, while the air was split with shrieks of laughter, in which we now unreservedly joined. Then came the climax of the joke, which nearly paralyzed the unfortunate victim.