CHAPTER II
THE Turnover
They came up separately, Toby first. Fortunately for the boy of the launch, a good eight feet separated him from Toby at the moment of his emergence, for Toby was by no means satisfied and proved it by an earnest endeavor to reach his adversary before the latter could splash and flounder his way around the bow of the launch and throw himself, breathless and half-drowned, across the edge of the float. From that position he squirmed not an instant too soon and half-leaped and half-fell across the gunwale of the launch and seized the boat-hook.
“Now, you wild idiot,” he gasped, “you keep away from me!”
Toby viewed the situation, pulled himself to the float and grinned. “All right,” he said. “You got the best of it now, but it ain’t red, and I’ll make you say so sooner or later. Now you pay what you owe me.”
An expression of blank dismay came to the other’s face, and he gazed anxiously about deck and water. “I dropped it! You made me do it, too! Now you find it!”
Toby shrugged. “I guess it’s at the bottom now. Let me look.”
“You stay where you are,” commanded the other, threatening again with his weapon.
“I won’t do anything—honest,” assured Toby. “Not now, that is. Put that thing down and let me see if I can see your money.”