, our deep gratitude----"

"To use a rather slangy expression--please 'forget it,'" said Bill,
laughing.

Lucy, supported by another older sister, could only thank the boys with
her pretty eyes. She did make so bold as to hold the hand of poor Gus
until he turned a fiery red. Blushing herself, even through her pallor,
she still persisted in trying to show her appreciation and admiration.
Bill had to grab and pull his stammering chum away.

The run back in the _Stella_ was made in rapid time to her owner's slip.
And there, the morning light just beginning to show in the eastern sky,
the boys found an odd-looking fellow busily getting ready to cast off a
fishing skiff. He was one Pepperman, commonly called "Swamp" for short.
He was something of a crony of Dan's and the boys had seen him before.

As they headed in they made out the identity of "Swamp." Gus suddenly
had one of his ideas. He conveyed it to Bill in few words:

"We'll get 'Swamp' to go to those Malatestas and tell them he can steal
them a boat. Then we'll get Tony away if he's still there. You talk to
'Swamp.'"

"Hello, Mr. Pepperman! Going fishing?" began Bill, as they made fast and
lowered sail. "Yes? Expect to catch much? No? Well, I know something
that will bring you in two hours more money than in three weeks of the
best fishing you ever had."

"Swamp" wanted to know how such a thing could be done. Said Bill:

"Dead easy! You take a walk right away down through the pines toward the
Point. Know how to whistle a tune? Sure; well then, come over all the
tunes you know. Let on you're hunting for special fish bait or
something. Sheer off toward the big pine and keep through toward the
ocean. You'll meet somebody likely. Don't get curious, but talk fishing
and boats. Tell them you take folks fishing and that you have a dandy
boat all ready--a fast one. They'll probably want to see her. Tell them
you keep her up here, but if they'll hang off shore at the Point you'll
sail her around there. Then, when they leave for the Point and you're
sure of it, you come up the bay side road and tell us. We'll be waiting.
How much is there in it? Twenty-five dollars, Mr. Pepperman, if your
errand turns out successfully. Is that enough?"

"I reckon hit air," remarked the sententious "Swamp." "When do I git the
money?"

"Any time--to-day," said Gus, and without another word the lanky fellow,
laying aside his tackle and bait of crab meat, was off into the woods.

Har