“The keel,” he muttered hoarsely, “can’t I have ’er fixed, Inspector—can’t I?”
Inspector Jones shook his head.
“It’d take more money than what you paid for the old hulk, Dare; more money than you’ve got, I guess.”
“I ain’t got a cent, Inspector, that’s the truth,” Toby said, choking on his words. “Every cent I had I paid Ol’ Flint an’—an’....”
Inspector Jones leaned toward the miserable man.
“Don’t take on so, Dare. Maybe the thing’s not as hopeless as it seems. If Josiah Flint’s got a spark of human feeling he’ll make good. Perhaps he didn’t realize what shape the barge was in when he sold her. He owns so many....”
“That’s jest it, Inspector,” said Toby, clenching his calloused hands. “Ol’ Flint ain’t got human feelin’. I worked fer him an’ I know. An’ fer a big ship-owner like him, he knows every craft he owns like a book. Now that I think uv it, I know he knew what he was sellin’ me! He knew I was dumb about them things an’ he took advantage uv it.” Dare looked down the harbor, glowing in the sunset, and his jaw was set determinedly. “He smiled, Ol’ Flint did, when I forked over my jack. He knew all the time!”
Skippy’s eyes were misty and he looked appealingly at Inspector Jones.
“Does that mean Pop can’t use the Minnie M. Baxter?” he faltered.
The inspector averted his face from the boy’s pleading eyes.