The High School Boys Canoe Club | Page 6

gentlemen? Then going, going---gone! Sold to Master
Prescott at eighteen dollars. Young man, I congratulate you. Walk right
up and pay your money! All, or a deposit?"
Dick, who had been collecting loose change from his chums, now came
forward.
"I'll pay a deposit of seven dollars," he announced.
"Hand it here, then. Seven dollars; thank you. Here's your receipt. Now,
remember, Prescott, you have until the end of one hour after the sale
closes. Then, if you're not here with the other eleven dollars, you must
expect to forfeit this deposit."
"I know," Dick nodded.
Then he hurried off to his chums.
"Come along," he said, with desperate energy, as he led them away
from the field. On the sidewalk he halted.
"We've got it, fellows!" he exulted. "We've got it! Hooray!"
"Yes; we've got it, if we've got eleven dollars more---which we
haven't," Greg remarked.
"We've eleven dollars more to raise," Prescott went on hurriedly.
"Roughly, that's two dollars apiece. We must hustle, too."
"No hustle for mine," yawned Dan Dalzell. "I'll just step down to my

bank and get the money. Will two dollars be enough, Dick?"
"Stop that talk," ordered Dave Darrin, getting a grip on Dan's shirt
collar. "If you don't, I'll thrash you! Dick has a scheme. Out with it, old
chap!"
"The scheme is simple enough," said Prescott hurriedly. "We must each
get two dollars, and get it like lightning. That will come to a dollar over
the amount we need, but we shall need the extra dollar, anyway. So
hustle! Borrow the money from anyone who'll let you have it. Offer to
work the money out at any time---any old kind of work. The only point
is to come running back with the money. Get it in any honest way that
you can, and don't one of you dare to fail, or we'll lose our deposit
money and our canoe. Start!"
Nor did Prescott lose any time himself, but raced down the street,
turned into Main Street and ran on until he came to the little cross street
on which stood the bookstore conducted by his father and mother.
"Mercy, Dick! What makes you run so?" asked Mrs. Prescott. Dick was
rejoicing to discover that there was, at this moment, no customer in the
store.
"Mother," replied her son, "I want to borrow three dollars this minute.
I'll be responsible for it---I'll pay it back. Please let me have it---in a
hurry!"
Then, briefly, he poured out the story. Mrs. Prescott's hand had already
traveled toward the cash register.
"We're very short of money just now, my boy. Try to earn this and pay
it back quickly. You know, trade is slow in the summer time, and we
have several bills to meet."
"Yes, I'll pay it back, mother, at the first chance---and I'll make the
chance---somehow," promised young Prescott. "Thank you."
The money in his hand, Dick raced back to the lot where the show tent

still stood.
He was back before any of the others and waited impatiently. Dave
Darrin came up ten minutes later.
"Did you get it?" asked Dick anxiously.
"Yes," replied Dave laconically, pushing two one dollar bills into
Dick's hand.
One by one the other boys arrived. Each had managed to round up his
part of the assessment.
With thirteen dollars in his hand, Dick went up to the auctioneer's clerk.
"I am ready to pay the other eleven dollars on the canoe," Prescott
announced, speaking as calmly as possible.
"All right," agreed the clerk. "But you'll have to find some man you can
trust to take the bill of sale. We can't pass title to a minor."
"Why didn't you tell me that before?" Dick demanded.
"That's all right. It wasn't necessary before, but it is now. Just find some
man who will treat you all right and give you the canoe. Then we'll take
the money and make out the bill of sale to him."
Fred Ripley now sauntered up, offering his money. He was given the
same directions for finding a man to whom title could pass.
Dick looked about him. Then across the lot, and over on the further
side of the street he saw his father.
Dick returned quickly to the lot with Mr. Prescott, explaining the
situation. The bookseller listened gravely, but offered no objections. He
stepped over, paid the money for Dick, then said:
"I must be going. Turn the canoe over to my son."

"Yes, sir," replied the auctioneer's clerk. "Men, haul out the truck that
has the canoe on."
Mr. Prescott had already walked away. Dick and his chums greeted the
coming of truck and canoe with a wild whoop. Then they piled up on
the truck to inspect their treasure.
Fred Ripley, returning with Mr. Dodge, a local banker,