“Aye, aye, sir,” Cookie said, bobbing his bald head and grinning. He shuffled off, and when he returned, he almost staggered under the burden of the platter he held. Boy, Sandy and Jerry thought, eying the platter hungrily, Mr. Kennedy sure does treat his friends well!
There were thick, juicy steaks and plates of French fried potatoes, pitchers of cold milk and plates of hot rolls and hard, cold butter—and, after dinner, two kinds of pie and plenty of ice cream.
“Boy, oh, boy,” Jerry James said weakly, after he had at last put down his fork. “I’d say that meal was worth the drive from California—even if we didn’t get jobs in the mines.”
“Jobs?” Mr. Kennedy said. “Mines?”
“Yes, sir,” Sandy put in. “You see, Dad thought that he’d be able to land us summer jobs. That’s why Jerry and I drove all the way from Valley View, where we live. But when we got here, Dad told us that work was so slow in the mines there just weren’t any jobs.”
As he spoke, Sandy’s good spirits began to drop a little. So did Jerry’s. For the moment, in the excitement of the events following the incident with the ore bucket, they had forgotten all about their disappointment. But now they realized once more that they were stranded 2,000 miles from home, without a job and just enough money to take them right back where they’d started from.
Mr. Kennedy looked at them soberly. “That is too bad,” he said. “But what your father says about the mines is true, Sandy.” He frowned. “How I wish it were not! Listen, boys, and I’ll let you in on a little business secret.” They leaned toward him, and Mr. Kennedy went on. “This boat, the James Kennedy, is making one of my firm’s last runs down the lakes to Buffalo.” He shook his head. “There’s just nothing to be done about this low-grade-ore situation, and I’ve decided to sell the shipping line.” He grimaced. “In fact, I’m selling out to my worst competitor, not the sort of fellow I’d like to sit down to dinner with, boys. But he’s made me an offer, and I’m taking it.
“That’s business, boys. So, you young fellows have the rather doubtful honor of sitting in the galley of the last of the Kennedy boats to—”
Mr. Kennedy’s mouth came open and he brought his clenched hand down on the table with a crash that startled Sandy and Jerry.
“Why not?” he said, smiling at them.