young man with a predilection for camping, and all the wholesome sport which goes with it, for in the little cabin there were fishing tackle, crab-nets, a tent and all the usual paraphernalia of the scout and adventurer. A mere glimpse at the tiny galley with its oil stove and spotless tins was enough to arouse an appetite.

“It’s a peach all right,” said poor Tom; “it’s a bargain at two thousand, I’ll say that. I wonder why he wants to get rid of it?”

“Got the airplane bug, I guess,” said the man.

“He’s in Europe?” Tom asked.

“Climbin’ mountains in Switzerland; last card I got from him said Loosarne or some such place. If all them mountains was stamped out flat I reckon Switzerland would be as big as the United States. Folks get crazes fer climbin’ them mountains; they got ter go roped together, I hear. What rich folks is after is excitement, I reckon. They go sailin’ on the streets in Veenus, judgin’ from the post cards.”

Tom did not hear these comments on European travel. He was gazing about, feasting his eyes on every enchanting detail and appurtenance of the boat. He derived a kind of foolish comfort from the fact that, the owner being away, the sale of this trim little floating palace could not be consummated for a while at least. Yet he stood a better chance of being struck by lightning than of being able to buy it.

“Well, you couldn’t sell it anyway?” he said in a wistfully, questioning way.

“Couldn’ give no bill o’ sale,” said the man.

“And she won’t go yet then—anyway?”

“Not ’nes she slips her anchor.”

Poor Tom could not drag himself away from the handsome little craft. He vaulted onto the cabin roof and sat with his legs dangling over the cockpit, gazing about at the accessories which spoke so seductively of nautical life; the anchor, the bell, the compass, the brass fog-horn in its canvas cover, the life preservers with Goodfellow printed on them.

Then, like a flash, he ceased his day dreaming and became the practical, alert young fellow that he was. He jumped down off the cabin roof, fully awake to his poverty and the fact that he was wasting this honest man’s time.

“She’s the kind of boat 

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