A boy with light blue eyes that just about matched the slightly hazy June sky sat on the float below the town landing at Greenhaven, L. I., and stared thoughtfully across harbor and bay to where, two miles northward, the village of Johnstown stretched along the farther shore. He had a round, healthy, and deeply tanned face of which a short nose, many freckles, the aforementioned blue eyes, and a somewhat square chin were prominent features. There was, of course, a mouth, as well, and that, too, was prominent just now, for it was puckered with the little tune that the boy was softly whistling. Under a sailor’s hat of white canvas the hair was brown, but a brown that only escaped being red by the narrowest of margins. That fact was a sore subject with Toby Tucker.

Perhaps had his hair been really and truly red, beyond all question, he wouldn’t have minded being called “Ginger” and “Carrots” and “Sorrel Top” and “Red Head” and all the other names frequently—but usually from a safe distance—bestowed on him. Perhaps it was the injustice of it that hurt. That as may be, a hint that Toby’s hair was red—or even reddish—was equivalent to a declaration of war, and entailed similar consequences! He wore, besides the duck hat, a sailor’s jacket of like material, a pair of khaki trousers, and brown canvas “sneakers.” You wouldn’t have called him “smartly dressed,” perhaps, but what he wore seemed to suit him and was, at least, clean.

From where he sat, perched on a box labeled “Sunny South Brand Tomatoes,” he had a clear view of Spanish Harbor, and beyond its mouth a wide expanse of Great Peconic Bay. Beyond that again lay the green fields and low, wooded hills of the north shore. A coal barge, which had lately discharged her cargo at Rollinson’s Wharf, was anchored in the middle channel, awaiting a tug. Nearer at hand were a half-dozen pleasure sailboats, a blunt-nosed, drab-hued fishing sloop, and a black launch, all tugging gently at their moorings on the incoming tide. On either side of the float a little company of rowboats and small launches rubbed sides. Behind him, the rusted iron wheels of the gangplank, leading to the wharf above, creaked as the float swung to the rising water.

Toby had the landing to himself. The box on which he sat held provisions for the yacht Penguin, and some time around nine o’clock a tender was to call for them. Toby, when school wasn’t in session, did such odd jobs as fell to his hand, and just now, it being Saturday morning, he was earning a whole quarter of a dollar from Perkins & Howe, the grocers. Having propelled the box to the gangplank in a wheelbarrow, and slid it down to its present resting place, all that remained was to continue sitting right there until some one claimed it, a task which suited Toby perfectly.

Not that he was especially lazy or disliked work, for he wasn’t and didn’t, but it was pleasantly hot today, and Toby was in a contemplative frame of mind, and sitting there in the sun, with the water lapping beneath him and the good smell of the sea in his nostrils, was very satisfying to Toby’s soul. The visions he saw with those blue eyes of his, squinted a bit because of the glare on the dancing water, must have been enthralling, since he didn’t observe the white launch that entered the harbor until it was almost up to the landing.

Then the chug-chug of her exhaust caught his attention, and he shaded his eyes and observed her intently. She wasn’t very big, perhaps eighteen feet over all, and she had a spray hood in lieu of cabin. At present the hood was down, and Toby could see much mahogany and polished brass as the launch sped, head on, for the landing. There was only one passenger in sight, a boy of about Toby’s age, who stood at the wheel in the bow. Toby, who knew most of the craft that entered Spanish Harbor, failed to recognize this one. Nor did the name, in gilt letters on her nose, make him any wiser.

“Frolic,” muttered Toby. “Never heard of her before. Must be a new one. Wonder where that lubber thinks he’s going to? He’ll be on the float in a minute if he doesn’t look out!”

When about forty feet away the boy in the launch threw the clutch into reverse. There was much churning of green water under the stern, and the boat’s speed lessened, but what with the impetus given her and the incoming tide she seemed bound to either land high and dry on the float or to considerably damage her immaculate white and gold bow. The skipper dropped the wheel and looked excitedly around for a boat-hook.

“Sheer off, you idiot!” cried Toby, nimbly scrambling out of the way. “Put your wheel over!”

“Grab her!” responded the boy in the launch. “Fend her off!”

Toby grunted. Then there was a crash, the float bobbed and shivered, and the white launch, finding further progress barred, rebounded from the obstacle in her path, and, leaving much fresh white paint on the canvas fender, churned merrily backward. Simultaneously two boys, one on the float and one in the launch, scrambled to their feet again and broke into speech.

“Hey, you boob!” yelled Toby. “Look where you’re going! You’ll have her stern into that dory in a minute. Shut off your engine!”

“Why didn’t you grab her?” demanded the boy in the launch angrily. “Couldn’t you see she was going to hit?”

“I’d look nice trying to stop her, wouldn’t I?” countered Toby contemptuously. “Why don’t you learn to run a launch before you come around here destroying property? What were you trying to do, anyhow? Climb the gangplank in her?”

“I couldn’t come in any way but straight on, could I? Look at all those boats along the sides! Why don’t they give a fellow a chance to get up here?”

“Well, you’re not expected to make your landing at sixty miles an hour, you silly lubber. Here, hold that out and I’ll pull you in.”

Somewhat disgruntled, the amateur navigator proffered the end of the boat-hook and in a jiffy the Frolic was alongside. Toby returned to his seat on the box and watched the other make fast. Conscious of Toby’s ironical regard, the skipper of the Frolic was flustered and awkward, and twice got the line tangled around his feet. When he stood up from his task, he was red of face and out of temper. “That suit your highness?” he inquired.

Toby grinned. “Well, it ain’t customary in these parts to make a boat fast with a square knot, but I guess she’ll hold.”

“You think you’re smart, don’t you?” sneered the other.

Toby made no reply to that, merely smiling in a most exasperating manner. Presently, when the skipper of the Frolic had laboriously shoved the launch out of the way, he looked questioningly about the landing.

“Where can I get gasoline?” he asked more affably.

Toby was maddeningly deliberate. “Gasoline?”

“Yes.”

“How much do you want?”

“What’s that got to do with it?” demanded the other impatiently.

“Well, if you want as much as ten gallons it would pay me to get it for you.”

“I can get it myself if you’ll tell me where they keep it. Don’t they have it here at this landing? Isn’t this the town landing?”

“Yes.” Toby looked around the float. “I don’t see any gasoline, though; do you?”

“Well, then, where——”

“You can get all you want at Tucker’s wharf over there.”

The other followed the direction of Toby’s pointing finger. “At the boat yard you mean?”

Toby nodded. “Yes; just chug over there to the float where you see the red tank.”

“Why couldn’t you tell me that before I tied up?”

“You didn’t ask me.” The other grunted and set about casting off again, during which operation Toby studied him speculatively.

He saw a boy of perhaps a year his senior, and Toby was fifteen, fairly tall, slim, and undeniably good looking. He had brown eyes and brown hair, the latter slicked back in a way that was strange and awe-inspiring to the observer, and his face, with its straight nose and somewhat pointed chin, lacked the healthy coat of tan that Toby’s possessed. Yes, he was a good looking chap, Toby decided, but a most unpleasant and unlikable one. That fact, however, was not going to prevent Toby from making a sale, and when the visitor had sprung aboard, Toby glanced doubtfully at his box of groceries, swept the harbor without seeing anything that looked like the tender from the Penguin, and jumped lightly to the Frolic.

“I’ll go over with you and get it,” he said. “Where’s your boat-hook? All right. Start her up!”

The other viewed him doubtfully. “What have you got to do with it?” he asked, suspiciously.

“That’s my father’s wharf, and he’s busy up in the shed. If it’s gasoline you want, I’m your man. Take her across easy now.”

The engine started at half-speed, and the Frolic slid quietly away from the town landing, past the end of the coal wharf, and across the Cove to the boat-yard landing. This time the launch’s operator performed his task more creditably and nestled up against the small float with no more damage to her paint. While he made her fast Toby sprang out and ran up the gangplank to the big red tank at the end of the wharf.

“How much do you want?” he called back.

“About nine, I guess. My tank holds ten, and I think there’s almost a gallon in it.”

“All right.” Toby held a five-gallon can under the faucet and when it was full climbed down again and swung it to the bow of the launch. “Look out for the paint,” requested the other boy. “Wait till I get the funnel. Go ahead now.”

Toby poured the contents of the can into the tank and returned again to the wharf. When the final four gallons had been added he set the can back on the float and observed: “One ninety-eight, please.”

“One ninety—— Say, how much do you charge a gallon?” exclaimed the other, incredulously.

“Twenty-two cents. This is the best there is.”

“Twenty-two! Why, I only paid twenty in New York the other day!”

“You were lucky,” drawled Toby. “It’s twenty-two here. What you got was low-grade, I guess.”

“Well, I don’t intend to pay any twenty-two cents. I’ll pay just what I paid in New York. Here’s two dollars, and I want twenty cents change.”

Toby, hands in pockets, paid no heed to the proffered bill. Instead he looked speculatively at the little round hole through which the gasoline had disappeared. “It’s going to be hard to get it out of there,” he mused. “Maybe we can do it with a pump, though.”

“Get it out? What for? Look here, twenty cents is enough and——”

“Not when the price is twenty-two,” replied Toby decidedly. “We charge the same as everywhere else here. You’d have paid twenty-two at the town landing just the same.”

“At the town landing! You said they didn’t keep it there!”

“No, sir, I didn’t. I said I didn’t see any.” Toby grinned. “And I didn’t, either. You can’t, from the float.”

“You’re a smart guy, aren’t you?” said the other angrily. “You make me come away over here and then try to hold me up! Well, you can’t do it! You fork over twenty cents and you’ll get this two dollars, you—you red-headed cheat!”

Toby’s grin faded instantly. “What did you call me?” he asked very quietly after a moment’s silence.

“You heard it! Now you find twenty cents and——”

They were standing on the canvas-covered deck at the bow, a precarious place at the best, with the launch rolling a bit, and not at all the sort of place the Frolic’s skipper would have selected for battle had he been allowed a choice. But he wasn’t, for his naughty remarks were rudely interrupted, rudely and unexpectedly! With something between a grunt and a snarl, Toby threw himself upon him.

“Take it back!” he panted. “’Tain’t red, and you know it!”

The older boy gave way before the sudden assault, tried to wrest his arms free from Toby’s grip, failed at that, and, bringing his greater weight to bear, forced the other back across the tiny decking. They struggled and panted, only the rubber soles they wore keeping them from going overboard.

“Let me alone, you silly ass!” grunted the older youth. “We’ll both be in the water in a second.”

“Take it back, then!” panted Toby. “’Tain’t red, is it?”

“Yes, it is! It’s red as—as fire!” He wrenched an arm free and struck out angrily. The blow missed, and Toby caught at the arm, trying now to trip his opponent up. But the law of gravity cannot be trifled with forever, and what was bound to happen sooner or later happened right then. Toby’s leg worked behind the other; he bore back and—over they went, still tightly clasped together, with a splash that awoke the echoes of the Cove!