consent, with the mental reservation that in
some way he would make it up to the others later.

"What are you going to do with all that wealth, Percy?" he asked. "It
won't keep you very long in gasolene."

"Send half of it to Filippo for his brother Frank," replied Percy,
promptly. "He lost about all he had when the _Barona_ was wrecked."

Later that afternoon Mr. Whittington took Jim aside out of Percy's
hearing.

"Honestly, between us, how has the boy done this summer?"

"I wouldn't ask to have anybody take hold any better than he has since
the middle of July."

The millionaire looked gratified.

"I'm more than pleased at the way things have turned out, and I don't
know how I can ever repay you. Can't I help you somehow in money
matters?"

Jim shook his head decidedly.

"No, thank you, Mr. Whittington. As I told you at the beginning of the
summer, we're making our own way. Percy is entitled to every cent we've
paid him, and I can honestly say we're glad he's been with us."

A half-hour afterward Mr. Whittington found his son alone.

"How about those college conditions, Percy?" he asked.

"Just finished my work on 'em before the wreck, Dad. I'm ready to take
my exams the minute I strike college. It's been a hard pull, harder even
than the fishing and lobstering, and it's kept me hustling; but I
believe I've won out. Studying isn't so bad. All you've got to do is to
make up your mind to get your lessons, and then get 'em."

"That's so in other things besides studying, Percy. You'll find it out
later on."

"I guess I don't need to tell you," continued his son, "how much I owe
to Jim Spurling and the others. They're the whitest bunch I ever ran
with, and I wouldn't have missed my summer with them for anything."

"Something different from what you felt three months ago, eh, Percy?
Remember our talk at Graffam Academy, Commencement night?"

"Rather guess I do! And, believe me, I sha'n't forget it in a hurry. By
the way, there's one fellow I owe a good deal to that I haven't told
you about yet."

He related to his father the story of his two encounters with Jabe. The
older man listened with grim but satisfied attention.

"Licked him at last, did you? If you hadn't, I should want you to look
him up and do it now. It's a Whittington habit to carry through what you
begin. Well, Percy, you've certainly made good."

A glimmer of pride, the first he had ever shown in his son, crossed his
face.

"I blamed