Nobody noticed me, I guess, and I just scrambled up the ditch and went away behind a tree and looked at the two dollar bill again. I guess you sure know the shape of an oar-lock all right—kind of round, but open at the top. And that was just the shape of the stain on the bill. I could have laid one of my oar-locks right on that bill and covered up the stain.

Maybe you think I was glad to get the bill back but I wasn’t. What did I care about that bill? Gee, a two dollar bill isn’t anything, compared to a friend, it isn’t. I could have another bill right away if I wanted it, and anyway, I’d be sure to get one on Monday. It was Westy I was thinking about, because you know how you heard me say we were special friends, sort of, Jiminy Christopher! I didn’t care about anything now. Even once when I lost my bronze medal I didn’t feel so bad. Then I said I guessed Westy just put it in his pocket to fool me and that he was going to give it to me. But cracky, there’s no use trying to kid yourself. Then, all of a sudden I thought how he wanted me to hurry and run and how he didn’t want to stop and talk much about it.

Jiminy, I didn’t know what to do and I just felt like going home and going up to my room and locking the door. I knew if I ever told anybody it would be either Ruth or Marjorie. It’s funny how when a fellow really has a lot of trouble he’d rather tell a girl than anybody else. You can laugh at girls, but that’s true. Maybe they can’t run and all that, but they kind of know all about it when you have a lot of trouble. Maybe I’d tell them, too, because they’d wonder if Westy didn’t come to the house any more.

Anyway, I was glad it was me to find the two dollars and none of the other fellows. I decided that as long as it wasn’t any good to me I’d put it back in his pocket if I could get a chance. Then maybe it would be kind of like a memorandum to him and he’d come and give it back when he had plenty of money sometime, maybe.

But when I went back there wasn’t any chance to do that, because all the fellows were still crowding around. I stood up on the edge of the ditch and I heard somebody say that El Sawyer had gone to Bridgeboro. Doc looked up at me and he said, “It isn’t bad, kiddo, don’t worry.” And I knew he was right and it made me feel good.

Anyway, I don’t know why he called me Kiddo sometimes. Because I’m leader of the Silver Fox patrol, why should he call me kiddo. But I guess he felt sorry for me, as you might say.

It was funny, but as soon as I knew Westy was going to get better, I didn’t want to stay there. I was afraid he might look at me and see that everything wasn’t all right. I was afraid he might see something in my eyes—you know. So I walked away, and besides, anyway, I wanted to think and I just felt I wanted to be alone by myself.

Just as I was going away one of the fellows said, “Here you go, kiddo,” and chucked a book up at me. “You take care of it; it was in his pocket,” he said. I guessed it was the book Westy had got out of the library and I was pretty glad because when you’re all alone and haven’t got any friends and everybody goes back on you, kind of, it’s dandy to read a book. Because, anyway, books never go back on you, that’s one sure thing. And they don’t take—anyway they’re good friends. When I looked at this one, I saw it was “Treasure Island” and I was glad ’cause I always liked that one.

That fellow, Jim Hawkins, he was a fine fellow, anyway. Gee, I said to myself, I’d like to have him for a friend, that’s sure. Because a fellow in a book can be a friend to you just like a real one. Even better, sometimes.