"I suppose it's a square deal George gave us?" queried Josh.
"Now, what do you mean by that?" demanded Herb.
"He couldn't have been playing a trick on us, could he?" the other went on; for Josh was often inclined to be somewhat suspicious.
"Come off!" scoffed George.
"That's too bad, Josh, for you to suspect him of trying to pull the wool over our eyes," Jack declared, reproachfully.
"Oh! I don't doubt him, so to speak," Josh protested; "but you know I'd hate everlastingly to be done by a coon."
"That letter was genuine enough," observed Jack, thoughtfully; "and fellows, perhaps you didn't notice the thing, but there were blurs on that writing, just as if somebody had been crying, and the tears dropped on the paper. Whether it was poor old George Washington, feeling awful lonely, and hungry, who wept; or his wife while she was writing the note, doesn't matter. But those marks went a big way toward convincing me his story was genuine."
Somehow Josh turned red, and no more was said. Those happy-go-lucky lads could feel for the sentiment that had caused those tears.
"That's Chincoteague Light, ain't it?" asked Herb, after a while, pointing ahead.
"Sure it is!" Jimmy cried. "I saw it winking at me every time I woke up last night, so I did, me bhoy!"