Scoop Ellery, our leader, reached for a rock the size of his fist and sent it crash-bang! against the side of an old clay scow that was moored to the dock. 

“If I had money enough,” he grinned, “I’d buy that old tub and have some fun with it.” 

Red Meyers scratched his freckled nose. 

“What kind of fun?” he wanted to know, wondering, I guess, what use one could make of the weather-beaten old scow. 

“Well,” considered Scoop, cocking his eyes at [2]the scow, “it would make a swell houseboat, for one thing.” 

[2]

“Let’s do it,” I promptly encouraged, picturing to myself the dandy fun that we could have in the Tutter canal with a houseboat. Hot dog! “Dad won’t care,” I hurried on. “Honest. For he told me that he was going to drag the scow out of the water and knock it to pieces.” 

Here Peg Shaw, our big chum, came into the conversation. 

“If your pa’ll let us use it,” he said to me, with an ear-to-ear grin, “I know how we can earn some money with it.” 

Well, that sounded darby. For boys like to earn money. And if we could have fun doing it, as seemed very probable, so much the better. 

Then Peg told us that it was his scheme to get up a boat show, patterned after the boat shows that used to travel on the Mississippi River years ago, only, of course, our show was to be a small one as compared to the early river shows. We could easily make the audience seats, our chum explained in reciting his scheme, and build a stage at one end of the boat. 

Red wanted to give a picture show. 

“I’ve got a peachy moving picture machine,” he told us. [3]

[3]

“What’s the matter with our black art show?” Scoop suggested. 

“The black art show,” Peg said, waggling, “is what I had in mind.” 

“Oh, baby!” I cried. “Won’t we have fun?” 

 Prev. P 13/153 next