“Not a bit of it, my boy! You can have it to-morrow for a thousand dollars. It cost me just short of three, engine and all. But I’ll sell it cheap. It’s in the best of condition, too; nothing run down—except the engine.” He chuckled. “Or I’ll take the engine out and you can have the boat for fifteen hundred! Want to buy?”
Dick shook his head ruefully. “I’d like to,” he said, “but I guess I couldn’t find that much money right now.”
“Well, when you do you let me know and maybe the boat will still be waiting for you. Cole’s my name, Forbes Cole, and ‘New York City’ will reach me any time. You see, I began to lose interest in this boat when I’d worked out the last combination in color on her. How do you like the way she’s painted now?”
“Very nice,” answered Dick, after an appreciable pause.
Mr. Cole burst into a bellow of deep laughter.
“Don’t care for it, eh? Well, you should have seen her two years ago; she was worth while then. I had her in Roman stripes. Beginning at the water line, she was blue, white, orange, cerise, purple, and pale green; stripes about six inches broad. Well, she attracted a lot of attention that summer. Folks thought I was crazy.” And he chuckled enjoyably, his brown eyes twinkling. “Then, the year before, I had the hull all bright green and the house burnt-orange. But I didn’t care much for that myself; it was a bit too plain.”
The boys laughed.
“Are you going to stay here long?” asked Roy politely.
“Ask the engine,” replied the artist, “ask the engine. I give her a few turns every morning. If she starts, why, I go on; if she doesn’t I stay. It’s simple enough. Saves me the bother of deciding, too. But I’ve never stopped just here before, and it looks as though I might find some paintable bits around. Where am I, by the way? Is this a private island I’m hitched to? Any law against trespassing?”