Captain Beasley was leaning negligently against the forward end of his cabin, smoking his favorite briar-root pipe in the autumn sunshine, when Mr. Maslin came running down the tow-path and hailed him, his son following along behind.
“You’ve got a boy on board your boat I want. He’s runnin’ away from my place yonder, after stealin’ a five-dollar bill. I want you to put him on shore,” demanded Silas Maslin, keeping pace with the canal-boat.
“I’ve got two boys aboard,” said the captain, in an indifferent tone. “Which one do you refer to?”
“The one with the new suit of clothes on,” replied the storekeeper, pointing to Dick. “His name is Armstrong.”
“All right,” agreed Captain Beasley. “He came on board of his own accord, and if he’s willing to go ashore he can go now.”
“I want you to make him come on shore whether he’s willin’ or not,” said Silas Maslin, energetically.
“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” said the skipper, shaking his head.
“Why can’t you? You’re captain of that boat, and I reckon you can do ’bout as you please on board of her. If he doesn’t come back with me and hand over the money he took from me, I’m going to have him arrested and put in the lock-up.”
Captain Beasley walked forward to where the two boys were standing, Mr. Maslin hastening his steps to keep abreast of him.
“That’s the man you’ve been living with, ain’t it, Armstrong?” asked Captain Beasley.