o his stockings, then. He hoped so. But, alas, no papers were to be
found, anywhere, on his stockings, or near his stockings, or under the
bunk, or--anywhere.

He rushed out on deck again, peering, following his course to the rail.
That was no use, either. The papers were gone; he had lost them, or
somebody had taken them.

What a foolish boy he had been!

XII

CALIFORNIA HO!

What a foolish, foolish boy! How could he tell his father, and Mr.
Grigsby? Maybe, though, he could find the papers, and then he would
not have to tell. The scheme tempted him, but he decided that it was
cowardliness. He had done the thing, and now he was afraid to accept
the consequences. Huh! This was not playing fair with his partners.
Besides, the longer he waited, the worse he made it for them and
himself too.

So he soberly dressed; then he went out, this time carefully locking
the door behind him, which of course was rather late in the game. The
boat containing his father and Mr. Grigsby was at the ship, and they
two came up the side. They were laden with stuff that they had bought
ashore.

"Hello, Charley," greeted his father, cheerfully. "Had a good time?
Phew, but it was hot on shore! You didn't miss much. Lend a hand,
will you, and help us carry this truck into the cabin?"

"You must have been in the water," remarked Mr. Grigsby, keenly noting
Charley's wet, salty hair.

Charley tried to smile, but it came hard. He picked up an armful of
cocoanuts, and followed his partners to the cabin. They waited at the
door for him.

"Got it locked, I see," quoth his father. "That's right. I told
Grigsby we could depend on you."

They dumped the spoils in the cabin. Up to this time Charley had said
scarcely a word.

"What's the matter, boy?" queried his father. "Didn't you have a good
time? Aren't you feeling well?"

"I've lost the papers," blurted Charley, wanting to cry.

[Illustration: "I've lost the papers"]

"What?" His father and Mr. Grigsby stared at him. "You don't mean it!"

"Yes. I lost them, or somebody took them." And Charley did begin to
cry. "I went in swimming and left my shoes in the cabin. And when I
came back the papers were gone. Boo-hoo."

"Pshaw!" muttered Mr. Grigsby.

"Well, don't cry about it," spoke his father, sharply. "Brace up, and
tell us about it."

Charley did.

"You're sure they aren't around the cabin somewhere?"

"I looked. I'll look again, though."