“It’s mighty expensive stuff, isn’t it?” asked Tom. “Think what we could do with twenty dollars!”
“That’s so, Tommy,” said Nelson. “Gasoline doesn’t taste as nice as caramels, but it’s a lot better for fuel.”
“Gee!” muttered Tom wistfully. “Think of twenty dollars’ worth of caramels!”
Later, when they went shopping for provisions, Tom got into a candy store and wouldn’t come out until he had bought a little of everything in sight. They returned to the wharf laden with bundles just as the clock struck ten.
“Now to pick up the tender and run around to Chatham,” said Nelson as they went down the wharf.
But when the float lay below them Bob nudged his arm. On the edge of the float, seated on an empty nail keg and talking to the gasoline man, was a tall individual in a faded blue coat on the left breast of which glittered a badge.
As they went down, the tall man, who looked more like a sailor than a police officer, arose and awaited them. Then,
“You gentlemen own this launch?” he asked with a slow drawl.
“Well, we’re sailing her,” answered Nelson. “She belongs to my father.”