CHAPTER VI.
CLYDE AND RAY PRISONERS.
James T. Leeds, broker, sat upon the veranda of the seaside hotel, with his feet on the railing and his chair tilted back.
He was at peace with himself and with all the world. In fact, the world had been treating him nicely of late. His "flyers" in Wall Street and in the wheat market had been successful. He had been making money rapidly, and this is why he smiled as he lighted his cigar.
Mr. Leeds liked the little seaside town, and was sure to drop in upon it as soon as the warm weather set in.
It was so near New York that he could reach the city in a few minutes. He had expected to get a good deal of enjoyment out of the yacht that he had bought, but, as we have already seen, it had proved a dismal failure.
He could not learn to manage it himself, and if the water was at all rough the motion made him sick. So he had reluctantly come to the conclusion that the water had no charms for him.
Mr. Leeds was in the midst of a calculation of his profits of the next day, should Erie Railroad stock jump up a couple of points, as he confidently expected that it would do, when a boy, panting and red in the face, suddenly appeared by his side.
"Hullo, Clyde! What is the matter with you now?" he inquired.
And his feet came down from off the railing and the legs of the chair settled upon the plank with a thump.