One Sunday morning, a few days later, Toby, dressed for church, sauntered across the road and, skirting the boat shed, went on down to the wharf where the Urnove lay snuggled against the spiles. It was a sparkling-blue morning with a perceptible tinge of autumn in the crisp air, and from the end of the stone pier he could see quite plainly the shore for miles to the northward. But he didn’t look abroad very long, for a sound below caused him to drop his eyes to the boat. In the stern, leaning over with his gaze seemingly intent on the muddy bottom of the shallow cove, puffing lazily at his old briar pipe, sat Long Tim.

Long Tim was attired in his Sunday best, which included a very high collar—which he called a “choker”—and a flaming red tie. Also, Sunday meant a pair of shiny and extremely tight boots to Long Tim, boots which, as Toby well knew, squeaked remonstrance all the way down the church aisle. Long Tim was so intent on his task of apparently studying the water that he had no knowledge of Toby’s presence until a chip struck lightly on the brim of his carefully brushed, but ancient derby. Then he looked up slowly and winked.

“What are you looking for?” asked Toby.

Long Tim shifted his position, felt solicitously of one boot and smiled. “Money,” he answered.

“Money? In the water?”

“Well, I’ll tell you, Toby. I calculate it looks funny to you, because you wouldn’t ordinarily expect to find money floating around in this cove, now would you?”

“I never have,” replied the boy.

“Well, now I have.” Long Tim watched for Toby’s expression of surprise and then went on with a chuckle. “Yes, sir, ’long about two months ago, or maybe a little more, I was standin’ just about where you be now, and I looked down in the water and see something green a-floatin’ round. Well, sir, it looked mighty like a piece o’ money; paper, o’ course. Says I, ‘It can’t be an’ so it ain’t, but if it is you might as well have it as the fishes.’ So I reached me a pole and pulled it out. And what do you suppose it was?”

“A two-dollar bill,” said Toby rather faintly.

Long Tim nodded. “Ezactly, though I don’t know how you guessed at the de-nom-ination o’ it. Yes, sir, a nice, new two-dollar bill. Queer, wa’n’t it? So since then I sometimes comes down and takes a look. If there’s one two-dollar bill a-floatin’ around this here cove, like enough there’s another, and like enough some day I’ll find it! Anyway, it ain’t what you’d call hard work, now, is it?”

To Long Tim’s surprise, Toby burst into laughter. His first impulse to claim the money for Arnold lasted only a second. It would be a great pity to spoil Long Tim’s romance for the sake of two dollars! But the funny side of it struck him forcibly. Neither he nor Arnold had thought to look for the lost bill. They had both taken it for granted that it had sunk, whereas, had they reasoned a little, they would have known that a piece of paper would float until saturated with water. They had really deserved to lose it!

“I calculate you don’t believe it,” said Long Tim mildly.

“Oh, yes, I do,” answered Toby, conquering his laughter.

“Oh! Then what was you laughin’ at, may I ask?”

“Just—just something I remembered,” chuckled Toby. “I—I hope you find some more, Tim!”

“Well, I ain’t yet, but there’s no tellin’ when I will. I’m sort of hopin’ that the next time it’ll be a five or a ten. I calculate there ain’t no law limitin’ the de-nom-ination of flotsam money!”

When Toby told Arnold about Long Tim’s find, later in the day, Arnold was as much amused as Toby had been. “Say,” he gasped, “wouldn’t it be funny to drop a dollar over the side of the wharf some day when he was looking? Wouldn’t he be surprised?”

“I guess he would,” Tony agreed, “but I guess it would be pretty funny. When do you want to do it?”

Arnold sobered. “Huh,” he answered, “I guess it wouldn’t be so funny after all! Dollars are sort of scarce these days.”

The last fortnight of vacation time fairly rushed by. All sorts of things which they had planned to do and had never done arose to haunt them, and they made heroic efforts to bring them to pass with but scant success. Toby’s ferry business, which had begun to dwindle perceptibly, kept him busy so much of the time that there was little opportunity for large adventures. The Deerings were to return to the city on the twelfth of September, about a week before Arnold’s school began, and that date was drawing perilously near. Already Toby experienced qualms of loneliness when Arnold was not with him, and he hated to think what it would be like when the other had actually departed from Greenhaven. Of course, if all went well they would meet again at Yardley Hall the last of the month, but there were times when Toby feared that that radiant dream would never come true. So many things might happen in a fortnight or three weeks! Suppose that bank where his money was should be robbed! One was always reading of such things! Frequently Toby wished he had spurned the slight interest offered by the trust company and hoarded his wealth in the bottom of the old sea-chest in his room. Toward the last he feared to look in the newspaper lest he read that robbers had blown up the safe of the bank or that a dishonest official had decamped for South America or some such inaccessible place with his savings!

The two boys managed to see a trifle more than ever of each other during those last two weeks, and that’s saying a good deal. Arnold seldom lunched at home, preferring to have dinner at Toby’s, since the trip back and forth to the Head ate up a lot of time which could be used to better advantage. Their conversations nowadays dwelt largely with Yardley Hall School and with the wonderful things they were to do there. They never tired of those subjects. Generally Phebe shared the confidences, saying little, but, like Mr. Murphy, speaking to the point when moved to speech. Once when the two boys, seated on the stone steps in front of the cottage between ferry trips, had expatiated long and enthusiastically on the fun that awaited them at Yardley Hall, Phebe observed wisely:

“You mustn’t forget, Toby, what father said about getting your money’s worth at school. It will be nice to have such a good time, but you ought to learn a great deal, I think, because you’re going to pay a great deal of money, aren’t you?”

“Oh, he’ll learn,” said Arnold carelessly. But Toby was silent a moment. Then he said soberly: “You’re right, sis. It won’t do to think too much about play. A fellow ought to get his money’s worth, whatever he goes into. And I intend to. You wait and see if I don’t, sis.”

“I think you will,” she answered, smiling. “Folks who waste money are very silly, and you’re not silly, Toby.”

“I’ll see that he doesn’t, Phebe,” Arnold assured her gravely.

“I’m afraid you don’t know much about it,” laughed the girl.

“Arn doesn’t know what a dollar is,” said Toby.

“Oh, don’t I? You throw one down there on the grass and I’ll show you!”

“Well, you don’t know the value of a dollar, then. You’ve always had all you wanted and——”

“Oh, that’s so, I suppose,” Arnold granted. “I guess I have wasted a good deal of perfectly good money on silly things, Toby, but I’m getting onto myself now. What you say about getting the worth of your money is just about right. After this I’m going to, too. You keep your eye on your Uncle Dudley. Some of the fellows at school think it’s smart to throw money away, but I guess it’s just silly, like Phebe says. Gee, if I know you much longer I’ll be as wise as—as Solomon—or Mr. Murphy!”

The Frolic was hauled out one morning and set up on a cradle in the boat yard and nicely canvassed over for the winter, and that ceremony somehow seemed to bring the summer to an official close even though three days still intervened before Arnold’s departure. The Aydee was to remain in commission until the last, for Arnold couldn’t bear to give her up. Frequently he sailed across to Johnstown in the knockabout when Toby made the trip in the launch, but toward the last he abandoned the yacht and joined his chum in the Urnove.

Arnold was to leave for the city on Thursday, and on Tuesday he attached himself to Toby early in the morning and remained at his side all the day. It was when they were on their way across to Johnstown at four o’clock, minus passengers this trip, that he became reminiscent. “Funny about us, isn’t it, Toby?” he began, smiling across at the other as the boat dipped and rocked in a choppy sea. It had been cloudy and squally all day, and within the last half-hour the wind had been steadily rising. Toby had questioned the advisability of that last trip but Arnold had laughed at his temerity.

“How do you mean?” asked Toby, leaving the engine and seating himself beside the other.

“Oh, the way we happened to meet, you know, and all. If I hadn’t gone over for gasoline that morning just when I did we wouldn’t have had the row and got acquainted.”

“And lost that money,” added Toby, grinning. “We might have run across each other some other time, though, I guess.”

Arnold shook his head. “I don’t believe so. I guess it was—was fated! Well, say, we’ve had a dandy time, haven’t we? And we’re going to have lots more. Say, honest, Toby, if you weren’t coming to Yardley I’d—I’d hate like anything to go back!”

“Uh-huh,” responded Toby, glancing away. “So would I. I mean——”

Arnold laughed. “I know! It’s jolly having a real chum!”

Toby only nodded, but Arnold seemed satisfied, and by actual consent the subject was abandoned.

Fortunately for them, they had donned the oilskins before starting across, for the spray was showering in at every dip of the boat’s bow and things were getting pretty moist. Now and then, as she quartered the waves, the Urnove playfully put her nose under one and deposited a good share of it inside. By the time they had covered half the distance the well was full and the water was splashing up between the gratings.

“We’ll have to bail her out before we come back,” said Arnold.

“Yes, and I guess we’d better come back pretty quick,” was the reply. “I don’t like the weather much. This wind’s swinging around into the southeast and there’ll be quite a sea before long.”

“It won’t bother this little boat,” laughed Arnold. “And I guess we don’t mind getting wet, do we?”

“I don’t if you don’t. Just the same, I guess we’ll beat it back without waiting until half-past.”

“There’s a launch over there,” said Arnold, peering under his hand to keep the spray from his eyes, “that seems to be making hard weather of it. Look at the way she’s tossing! She’s a big one, too, isn’t she? A trunk-cabin boat. What’s the signal she’s flying, Toby?”

“I can’t see. Looks to me as though she were anchored. Queer place to drop her mud-hook, though. Look out for this sea, Arn! It’s coming in!”

It did come in and with a vengeance, and although they ducked their heads to it it managed to get down their necks and up their sleeves and left them drenched and laughing. They forgot the cabin cruiser then and brought the Urnove’s head around a bit and scuttled for the landing. The wind was whistling loudly by that time and a sullen wrack of clouds was scudding fast overhead. They made the lee side of the little landing and found themselves partly out of the wind and in fairly calm water. They dried their faces as best they could with their handkerchiefs and then set about bailing the water from the bottom of the launch. By the time they had finished it was so nearly the half-hour that Toby felt no hesitancy in starting back. No one was in sight on the road to the landing and so, starting the engine again and casting off, they slipped out of their haven and faced the elements once more. At the worst, as Toby said, there was no danger, but they could ship a good deal of water and get pretty wet, and since the motor was exposed the water frequently caused a short-circuit and slowed down the engine. To obviate those drawbacks, they headed the launch out so that she took the seas on her port bow, meaning to presently swing around and run before them. That the latter intention was not carried out was due to the fact that their first course took them in the direction of the big cruising launch which they had noticed on the way over, and that Toby, discerning something queer in the way in which she tumbled and wallowed about, looked more closely and gave vent to a grunt of surprise.

“She’s not anchored at all,” he shouted across to Arnold. “She’s drifting side-on. And—hello!”

“What?” asked the other.

“What do you make of those pennants she’s flying?”

Arnold, crouching at the side wheel, screened his eyes and gazed at the bits of colored bunting flapping from the little signal mast. “One’s white and the other’s—the other’s blue-and-white, isn’t it?”

“Yes, that’s J. But can you see if the white pennant’s got a red disk?”

“I think so. Yes, it has! What’s it mean?”

“C. J.; disabled and need assistance,” answered Toby. “Run over, and see what’s up. Engine’s broken down, I suspect. There’s some one waving to us.”

The Urnove turned her length to the seas and, rocking and pitching, headed for the launch in distress.