The lad’s face reflected his keen disappointment. He was beginning to feel very angry and disgusted. He was also extremely mystified. What could it mean?
“It looks as if I’m going to get cheated out of that dandy motor yacht trip to-day, Brandon.” The scowling lines on his forehead deepened. “By George, I never felt so mad in all my life. It’s after eleven, now.”
The two were so busily engaged in conversation that they failed to notice a little fat man who presently emerged from a shanty not far away and ambled slowly out on the wharf toward them.
With his face wreathed in smiles he approached, coughing in a sort of apologetic fashion as he said, touching his cap:
“I beg pardon, gents, but I’d like to speak to ye jist a moment.”
Victor eyed his slouchy figure with a disdainful stare.
“No—no; not even a cent!” he exclaimed almost spitefully. “You’re husky enough to work. Go hustle after a job!”
The humorous light instantly left the little fat man’s eyes, to be followed by such a ferocious expression that Victor thought it wise to walk briskly away.
“Wal, if it don’t beat all,” growled the offended citizen. He struck the palm of his hand a savage blow. “Wonder what the captain ’ud say to that?”
Finding no answer to this perplexing problem, he started to follow the retreating lads; then, apparently reconsidering, stopped short.