He looked over towards Rupert again. The boy was sleeping calmly, peacefully. There was little chance that he would wake up.
Ben rose cautiously from his couch, and with a stealthy step he made his way to the sleeping boy.
He stooped down and picked up the wallet and then opened it, peering eagerly at the contents.
There was a thick roll of bills. He counted them in a quick, stealthy way, and his heart beat with excitement when he ascertained that the roll contained eighty-one dollars.
"Why, that will take me to New York," he thought.
Yes, it would take him to New York. There would be no weary waiting, no probable disappointment in the end. The dream of his life might be realized, and at once.
Ben was not naturally dishonest. If he had not had a special use for the money it would not have tempted him. But he wanted to go to New York, and the temptation seemed too great for him to resist.
His resolution was taken. With one backward glance at the sleeping boy he thrust the wallet into his pocket and started for the river, where the skiff awaited him.