Part 5 (1/2)

”Will you pay the toll?”

”I don't want to go over now.”

”All right, then, you can go back to sh.o.r.e.”

Ralph arose to his feet, and the aristocratic bully slowly followed.

Several persons were coming across the bridge now, and the young bridge tender ran to collect their tolls, leaving his late antagonist to brush off his sadly-soiled clothes.

”I'll fix you for this!” cried Percy, after the pa.s.sengers had pa.s.sed out of hearing. ”We'll see if the village will allow a ruffian like you to tend bridge much longer.”

And off he stalked, with his face full of dark and bitter hatred.

Ralph looked after him anxiously. Would Percy's threat amount to anything?

It would be a real calamity to lose his situation on the bridge.

Then Ralph started to brush off his own clothes. While he was doing so he felt in his pocket to see if his twenty dollars was still safe. The bill was gone!

With great eagerness he began a search for the missing banknote. It was all to no purpose, the money could not be found.

CHAPTER V.

A HUNT FOR THE MISSING BILL.

Ralph was deeply chagrined to think that the twenty-dollar bill could not be found. He had calculated that with it he might advertise for the missing papers, and even offer a small reward.

He was loath to give up the search, and after his first hasty hunt, went over every foot of the plank walk of the bridge, and even under it.

”It must have slipped from my pocket, and the wind must have blown it into the water,” he thought, bitterly. ”That was a pretty dear quarrel, especially as it was not in the least of my making.”

Thinking he might possibly find the bill floating on the water, the young bridge tender sprang into his rowboat, the _Martha_, which was tied up to the ironwork under the bridge, and pulled around the stonework and some distance down into Silver Lake.

He found nothing, and inside of ten minutes had to go back to his post of duty and collect toll from several people who were coming over from Eastport.

”I'm out twenty dollars, and that's all there is to it,” he muttered to himself. ”It's too bad. Why can't Percy Paget stay away and mind his own business?”

The remainder of the afternoon pa.s.sed quietly, saving for the mild excitement of the working folks going and coming after factory hours, and at dark Bob Sanderson came on duty.

”The sloop is gettin' on finely,” said the old fellow, in response to Ralph's inquiry. ”The woodwork is about done, and I'll paint her first thing in the morning.”

”You want to make a first-cla.s.s job of it, Mr. Sanderson. I know Mr. Kelsey will pay the price.”

”I'm a-going to, Ralph. What did he give you for hauling him from the water?”

”Twenty dollars.”

”Shoo! He must be rich.”