“But you hardly ever come across,” protested Jack.
“Well, well, I’ll have to make a few special journeys to work off the price of the dinghy. Not another word, now. She’s yours. Rod will hand her over to you to-day.”
“Thank you ever so much,” Jack called after Mr. Farnham, who had already turned and was walking away toward his bungalow.
The proprietor of Holden’s Ferry had but little time for gossip with his friend the watchman for several days after his return from Bristow, but early one morning, while Jack was preparing the sloop for the day’s work, Cap’n Crumbie descended from the wharf and sat on the deck-house watching the lad use the swab.
“There’s one thing I forgot to tell you,” said the watchman. “I’ve got a notion that p’r’aps we’ve been misjudging those two fellers Hegan and Martin.”
“Misjudging them?”
“Well, I dunno,” replied the Cap’n. “P’r’aps it was only me that did the misjudging, but I surely did think it was either one or the other o’ them that tried to brain you with a bar o’ steel that night.”
“Well?” said Jack, curiously.
“Well, ’tain’t reasonable to think so now. If they’d wanted to do you an injury they wouldn’t have acted like they did when we all thought you was getting drownded out there.”
Jack put down the swab.