In a moment the two were leaning over the side of the launch and peering into the water. But the surface was ruffled and it was impossible to see much below it. “When did you let go of it?” inquired Toby.
“How do I know? When you grabbed me, I suppose.”
“Haven’t you got any more money with you?”
“No, I haven’t, and if I had I wouldn’t give it to you,” was the ungracious reply. Toby considered. Finally:
“Well, I’ll take half the blame,” he decided, “but that’s all. You pay me ninety-nine cents and we’ll call it square.”
“That’s twenty-two cents a gallon, though.”
Toby nodded. “Sure. That’s the price.”
After a moment’s consideration the other consented. “But you’ll have to trust me for it,” he said. “That two dollars was all I had.”
“All right. What’s your name?”
“Deering, Arnold Deering. I live on the Head.”