BUDD BOYD.
JUDD FLOYD.
Fox Island, May 20, 18--.
It was late on Saturday evening when the lads got back to the island after carrying around their posters. They were very tired from their long tramp of the day and the other work their plans had necessitated; but they were contented, for they felt that their firm was now fully organized and launched out upon the world.
[CHAPTER VII.--BUSINESS BOOMS.]
The cry, "Wake up, Budd! All hands ahoy!" greeted Budd's ears early Monday morning. He opened his eyes at the command.
The sun had not yet risen. The faint light of early dawn was coming in through the last window of the room. Judd was out of bed and busily dressing, and he it was who had given the call. The next moment Budd was beside him, and they chatted away like magpies as they completed their dressing. The whole outline for the day's work was soon laid out.
"It will be low tide at nine o'clock, and we must have breakfast eaten and be on our clamming-grounds at least two hours before that," Judd said, by way of beginning the conversation.
"And where is it you said we would go?" Budd responded.
"Down the bay to the upper end of Plum Beach Point," was the answer. "There hasn't been much digging there this season, and we ought to find clams plenty and of good size. We'll dig there until the turn of the tide; then we'll go across the bay, under the lee of Conanicut, where there is a sunken ledge, off which, if I'm not much mistaken, I'll show you as good fishing as you ever enjoyed."
"What'll we be likely to catch?" Budd then inquired, just as they both entered the kitchen and began preparations for breakfast.