"Here's something," remarked Larry, as he looked on a small table in the room where the rescued man had slept. "It looks like a note."
It was a note, written on the fly leaf torn from a book. It read:
"Dear friends. Accept my thanks for saving my life. Please take this small remembrance for your trouble."
There was no signature to the note, but folded in the paper was a hundred-dollar bill, somewhat damp from immersion in the sea.
"Well, sink my cuttle-fish!" exclaimed Bailey. "That's odd. A hundred dollars! That's more than I make in a summer season. But half of it's yours. I'd like to rescue people steady at that rate."
"It's all yours," said Larry. "I got the story I came down after, and that's all I want. But I would like to find this Mah Retto, if that's his name. He doesn't write much like a foreigner, though he looks like one. May I keep this note?"
"As long as you don't want a share in the hun
dred-dollar one, I reckon you can," Bailey replied, with a laugh.
Larry folded the scrap of paper to put in his pocket. As he did so something bright and shining on the floor attracted his attention. He stooped to pick it up, finding it was a small gold coin, of curious design, evidently used as a watch charm.
"I guess our man dropped this," Larry said, holding it out to Bailey.