The Boy Scouts of the Eagle Patrol Part 5

Merritt paused the next morning in front of Tubby's home, and gave the "call" of the Eagle Patrol with a not uncreditable resemblance to the scream of a real eagle.

The cry was instantly echoed--though in a rather thicker way--from inside the house, and in a minute Tubby, who knew that some one of the patrol must have uttered the call, appeared at his door, munching a large slice of bread and jam, although it was not more than an hour since breakfast.

"Say, you, did you ever hear an eagle scream with his mouth full of bread and jam?" demanded Merritt, as the stout youth appeared.

"Eagles don't eat bread and jam," rejoined Tubby, defending his position. "Have some?"

"Having had breakfast not more than an hour ago, I'm not hungry yet, thank you," politely rejoined the corporal; "besides, I'm afraid I'd get fat."

Dodging the stout youth's blow, the corporal went on:

"Heard the news?"

"No--what news?" eagerly demanded the other, finis.h.i.+ng his light repast.

"Why, the Dolphin--you know, that fis.h.i.+ng boat--picked up Sam's hydroplane at sea and towed it in. It's in pretty good shape, I hear, although the engine is out of commission and it was half full of water."

"He's a lucky fellow to get it back."

"I should say so," replied Merritt; "but it will cost him a whole lot to reclaim it. The captain of the Dolphin says he wants fifty dollars for it as salvage."

"Gee! Do you think Sam's father will give him that much?" said Tubby, with round eyes.

"I don't know. He can afford it all right. He's made a lot of money out of that boat-building shop, my father says; but he's so stingy that I doubt very much if he will give Sam such a sum."

"Why, here's Sam coming down the street now," exclaimed the good-natured Tubby. "I wonder if he's heard about it. Hullo, Sam!

Get all the water out of your system?"

"I'm all right this morning, if that is what you mean," rejoined the other, with dignity.

"Heard the news about your boat?" asked Merritt suddenly.

"No; what about her? Is she safe? Who picked her up?"

"Wait a minute. One question at a time," laughed Merritt. "She's safe, all right. The Dolphin picked her up at sea. But it will cost you fifty dollars to get her."

"Fifty dollars!" gasped Sam, turning pale.

"That's what the skipper of the Dolphin says. He had a lot of trouble getting a line fast to her, he says, and he means to have the money or keep the boat."

"Oh, well, I'll get it from my father easily enough," said Sam confidently, preparing to swagger off down the street. "I've got to get my boat back and beat Rob's Flying Fish, and that hydroplane can do it."

"Can you match that?" exclaimed Merritt to the fat youth, as Sam strolled away. "Here he was saved from drowning by the Flying Fish only yesterday, and all he can think of this morning is to promise to beat her. What makes him so mean, I wonder?"

"Just born that way, I guess," rejoined the stout youth; "and as for the Flying Fish saving him, if it hadn't been for a certain Corporal Crawford, he--"

"Here, stow that," protested Merritt, coloring up. "I heard enough of that yesterday afternoon."

As the boys had surmised, Sam's father was not at all pleased when he learned that his son wanted fifty dollars. In fact, he refused point blank to let him have it at all.

"That boat of yours has cost enough already, and I'm not going to spend any more on it," he said angrily, as he turned to his work.

"But I can't get the hydroplane back if I don't pay it," urged Sam.

"I've seen the captain of the Dolphin, and he refuses absolutely to let me have her unless I pay him for his trouble in towing her in."

"I can't help that," snapped the elder Redding. "What have I got to do with your boat? Look here!" he exclaimed, turning angrily and producing a small memorandum book from his pocket and rapidly turning the leaves. "Do you know how much I've given you in the last two months?"

"N-n-no," stammered Sam, looking very much embarra.s.sed, and shuffling about from one foot to the other.

"Then I'll tell you, young man; it's exactly--let me see--ten, twenty, five, three, fifteen and eight. That's just sixty-one dollars. Do you think that money grows on gooseberry bushes? Then there'll be your college expenses to pay. No, I can't let you have a cent."

"That means that I will lose my boat and the chance of winning the race at the regatta!" urged Sam gloomily.

"Well, you should have had more sense than to take that fool hydroplane out into a rough sea. I told you she wouldn't stand it. There, go on about your own affairs. I'm far too busy to loaf about, arguing with you."

And with this the hard-featured old boat builder--who had made his money literally by the sweat of his brow--turned once more to his task of figuring out the blue prints of a racing sloop.

Sam saw that it was no use to argue further with his father, and left the shop with no very pleasant expression on his countenance.

"I'll have to see if I can't borrow it somewhere," he mused. "If only I was on better terms with Rob Blake, I could get it from him, I guess.

His father is a banker and he must have plenty. I wonder--I wonder if Mr. Blake himself wouldn't lend it to me. I could give him a note for it, and in three months' time I'd be sure to be able to take it up."

With this end in view, the lad started for the Hampton Bank. It required some courage for a youth of his disposition to make up his mind to beard the lion in his den--or, in other words, to approach Mr.

Blake in his office. For Sam, while bold enough when his two hulking cronies were about, had no real backbone of his own.

After making two or three turns in front of the bank, he finally screwed his courage to the sticking point, and timidly asked an attendant if he could see the banker.

"I think so. I'll see," was the reply.

In a few seconds the man reappeared, and said that Mr. Blake could spare a few minutes. Hat in hand, Sam entered the ground-gla.s.s door which bore on it in imposing gilt letters the word "President."

The interview was brief, and to Sam most unsatisfactory. The banker pointed out to him that he was a minor, and as such that his note would be no good; and also that, without the permission of his father, he would not think of lending the youth such a sum. Much crestfallen, Sam shuffled his way out toward the main door of the bank, when suddenly a voice he recognized caused him to look up.

"A hundred and twenty-five dollars. That's right, all s.h.i.+pshape and above board!"

It was the old captain of Topsail Island, counting over in his gnarled paw one hundred and twenty-five dollars in crisp bills which he had just received from the paying teller.

"You must be going to be married, captain," Sam heard the teller remark jocularly.

"Not yet a while," the captain laughed back. "That ther motor uv mine that I left ter be fixed up is goin' ter cost me fifty dollars, and the other seventy-five I'm calculating ter keep on hand in my safe fer a while. I'm kind uv figgerin' on gettin' a new dinghy--my old one is just plum full uv holes. I rowed over frum the island this mornin', and I declar' ter goodness, once or twice I thought I'd swamp."

Sam slipped out of the bank without speaking to the captain, whom, indeed, since the episode of the melon patch, he had no great desire to encounter.

As he made his way toward his home in no very amiable mood, he was hailed from the opposite side of the street by Jack Curtiss and Bill Bender.

"Any news of the boat?" demanded Jack, as he and Bill crossed over and slapped their crony on the back with great a.s.sumed heartiness.

"Yes, and mighty bad news, too, in one way. She's safe enough. The Dolphin--that fis.h.i.+ng boat--found her and towed her in. But--here's the tough part of it--it's going to cost fifty dollars for salvage to get her from the Dolphin's captain, the old shark!"