“Not lawful currency; an’ bad for the lungs. Heave ’em overboard, young feller, and try agin.”
“It’s been stolen!” cried Harvey, hotly.
“You’ll hev to wait till you see your pa to reward me, then?”
“A hundred and thirty-four dollars—all stolen,” said Harvey, hunting wildly through his pockets. “Give them back.”
A curious change flitted across old Troop’s hard face. “What might you have been doin’ at your time o’ life with one hundred an’ thirty-four dollars, young feller?”
“It was part of my pocket-money—for a month.” This Harvey thought would be a knockdown blow, and it was—indirectly.
“Oh! One hundred and thirty-four dollars is only part of his pocket-money—for one month only! You don’t remember hittin’ anything when you fell over, do you? Crack agin a stanchion, le’s say. Old man Hasken o’ the East Wind ”—Troop seemed to be talking to himself—“he tripped on a hatch an’ butted the mainmast with his head—hardish. ’Baout three weeks afterwards, old man Hasken he would hev it that the East Wind was a commerce-destroyin’ man-o’-war, an’ so he declared war on Sable Island because it was Bridish, an’ the shoals run aout too far. They sewed him up in a bed-bag, his head an’ feet appearin’, fer the rest o’ the trip, an’ now he’s to home in Essex playin’ with little rag dolls.”
Harvey choked with rage, but Troop went on consolingly: “We’re sorry fer you. We’re very sorry fer you—an’ so young. We won’t say no more abaout the money, I guess.”
“ ’Course you won’t. You stole it.”
“Suit yourself. We stole it ef it’s any comfort to you. Naow, abaout goin’ back. Allowin’ we could do it, which we can’t, you ain’t in no fit state to