Grit or The Young Boatman of Pine Point 14

Grit or The Young Boatman of Pine Point 14

"That doesn't seem like Phil. He's mean enough to do anything, but I

didn't think he would do that."

 

"Nor I. I'll give him a good piece of my mind when we meet. Where did

you meet him?"

 

"Just above Glen Cove."

 

"Do me a favor, Jesse. Take me into your boat, and row me up there, so

that I may meet him, and recover my boat."

 

"All right, Grit. I'm very glad to do you a favor."

 

"Are you sure it is my boat Phil had?" asked Grit, still unwilling to

believe that Phil had deliberately taken his boat.

 

"Yes, I know your boat as well as my own. Besides, there was the name,

_Water Lily_, on it, as plain as day. There is no doubt about it."

 

"Well," said Grit, closing his lips firmly, "all I can say is, I'll make

him pay for the use of the boat, or there'll be trouble."

 

"You won't challenge him, will you, Grit?" asked Jesse, smiling.

 

"That's just what I will do. I should be justified in thrashing him,

without notice, but I will give him a chance to defend himself."

 

"If you want a second, call on me," said Jesse. "I don't like Phil any

better than you do, and I shan't object to seeing his pride humbled.

It's bad for your business, having the boat taken."

 

"Yes, I shall lose the chance of two passengers who wanted to go across

to Portville an hour from now."

 

"You may use my boat for that, Grit."

 

"Thank you, Jesse; I should like to, if I don't get back my own. Did you

speak to Phil?"

 

"No. I said 'good morning,' but, with his usual politeness, he only gave

a slight nod, and did not answer. I wanted to ask him how it happened

that he was using your boat so early in the morning, but, you see, I got

no chance."

 

"It is queer. I can't guess what he will have to say for himself."

 

"There he is now!" said Jesse suddenly, looking up the river.

 

"Where?"

 

"Don't you see? He is rowing this way. His back is turned, and he

hasn't seen us yet."

 

Yes, it was Phil. He had enjoyed a good row, and now was on his return

course. He was rowing slowly and lazily, as if fatigued.

 

"You will soon hear what he has to say, Grit," said Jesse.

 

At that moment Phil chanced to turn round, and he saw and recognized the

boys that were approaching him. He did not, however, seem confused or

embarrassed; neither did he change his course. He merely smiled, and

continued to row toward his pursuers.

 

"He sees us, and still he comes on. There's cheek for you!" ejaculated

Jesse.

 

Grit said nothing, but his mouth closed firmly, and his eyes sparkled

with anger. He waited till Phil was within earshot, and then he demanded

sternly:

 

"What are you doing there with my boat, Phil Courtney?"

 

Phil would have resented Grit's tone, but he gloated over the triumphant

answer he was able to make, and thought he would tantalize Grit a

little.

 

"To what boat do you allude?" he asked, in a nonchalant tone.

 

"To what boat do I allude?" repeated Grit, provoked. "I allude to my

boat, in which you are rowing."

 

"You are mistaken," said Phil composedly. "I am rowing in my own boat."

 

"Isn't that the _Water Lily_?" asked Jesse, coming to the help of his

friend.

 

"It is at present. I shall change the name for one I like better."

 

"Look here, Phil Courtney!" said Grit indignantly, "this is carrying the

joke a little too far. You have taken my boat without leave or license

from me, and now you actually claim it as your own. Do you mean to say

that isn't the boat I have been rowing on this river for the last year?"

 

"I never said it wasn't."

 

"Isn't it the boat in which I carried you across the river yesterday?"

 

"Of course."

 

"Then what business had you to cut the rope and carry it off?"

 

"I didn't."

 

"Then how did you come by it?"

 

"I bought it!"

 

"Bought it!" exclaimed Grit and Jesse simultaneously.

 

"Yes, I bought it, and it is mine," continued Phil, with a smile of

triumph. "It's just as much mine to-day as it was yours yesterday."

 

"I never sold it to you," said Grit, perplexed.

 

"No, but your stepfather, Mr. Brandon, did. If the rope was cut, he cut

it."

 

"Can you prove this, Phil Courtney?" asked Grit.

 

"If you will row up alongside, I will satisfy your curiosity."

 

Jesse pulled his boat alongside, and Phil drew from his vest pocket a

paper and handed it to Grit.

 

"Read that," he said.

 

Grit read as follows:

 

 

"In consideration of five dollars, to me paid, I make over and sell

the boat called the _Water Lily_ to Philip Courtney.

 

NATHAN BRANDON."

 

 

"There!" said Philip triumphantly, "what have you to say now?"

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER XV.

 

GRIT ENGAGES ANOTHER BOAT.

 

 

When Phil displayed the bill of sale, made out in due form by Brandon,

Grit was for the moment taken aback.

 

"Whose boat is it now?" continued Phil triumphantly.

 

"It is mine," answered Grit quietly; "for Mr. Brandon had no right to

sell it."

 

"I have nothing to do with that," said Phil. "He is your stepfather--you

ought to feel proud of having a jail-bird in the family--and he told me

the boat was his."

 

"I shall not contest your claim at present," said Grit. "As long as it

passes out of my hands, you may as well have it as any one."

 

"I'll sell it back for ten dollars," said Phil, who had a keen scent for

a bargain.

 

"Thank you, I don't care to buy back my own property. Besides, Mr.

Brandon would be ready to sell it again to-morrow. As to what you say of

him, I shan't undertake to defend him. I am not particularly proud of

the relationship."

 

"What are you going to do for a boat to ferry your passengers?" asked

Phil.

 

"I don't know."

 

"I'll let you this for fifty cents a day."

 

"That would be about half of my receipts, and you would get your money

back in ten days. I don't care about making such a bargain as that."

 

"You'll have to give up your business, then," said Phil.

 

"No, he won't," said Jesse Burns. "I will give him the use of mine, and

won't charge him a cent."

 

"Thank you, Jesse. You are a true friend," said Grit warmly. "You are

doing me a great favor."

 

"And I am glad to do it. Suppose we pull to land? There are three

persons at the landing who look as if they wanted to be ferried across."

 

Grit seized the oars and impelled the boat to land. As Jesse had said,

there were three persons waiting, a gentleman and two ladies, who at

once engaged the services of the young boatman.

 

For this service he received thirty cents, and, finding two persons at

the other end who wished to come to Chester, the first hour in his new

boat brought him fifty cents.

 

Grit's spirits rose. His misfortune was not irremediable, after all. He

had feared that his means of living were taken away, and though he had

money enough to buy a new boat, he did not dare to do so, lest Brandon

should also sell that.

 

"I'll give him a piece of my mind," he thought. "It's contemptible to

come home and live on us, and then to take away my means of living."

 

Meanwhile, Brandon had gone to the tavern, which he entered with a

swagger, and immediately called for a glass of whisky.