“Thirty-two dollars!” declared Mr. Holden, at last. “Jack, you’re a wizard! How did you do it?”
“Didn’t you think I should do as well as that?” the boy asked.
“Why, no, not in this short while,” replied Mr. Holden. “Not after you’d paid for your paint and your fittings, and paid your crew, too.”
“Well, there are two more months yet, Dad,” said Jack, hopefully, “and I ought to do even better during the rest of the season. You see, the people over on the Point are beginning to depend on the ferry. We always run on time, once an hour, and only miss the trip when the weather makes it impossible. The more the people learn to look for us, the better it is for the treasure-chest.”
“I shall have to look to my laurels,” said Mr. Holden, “or you’ll be making more than I do. Now, don’t keep this in the house. Take it down to the bank, where it will be safe. You—you know, I’ve never felt too safe with money lying round since—that night—”
Mr. Holden’s voice trailed into silence, leaving his sentence unfinished, but Jack knew what night he was thinking of, and he answered soberly: “All right, Dad.”
He gathered up the bills and coins and replaced them in the wooden box. “I’ll keep it all together till the end of the season, and then I’ll hand it over to you.”
The throb of an automobile caught the lad’s ear, and he looked down the street. A large limousine was approaching the cottage.
“Why, that’s the Farnhams’ car,” he said, going to the end of the porch. A moment later the vehicle stopped in front of the cottage, and Rodney jumped out.
“I’ve brought some one to see you,” he called. Jack needed no second glance to know that the prosperous-looking gentleman who followed on the heels of Rodney was the lad’s father.