wouldn't want any one to get drowned. But, come on, and I'll shoot you a game of pool."
"Can't. I'm dead broke."
"I'll pay for it," offered Guy, as Dick's auto swung around a corner and as the two lads, who were rather inclined to a "sporty" life, turned to seek a pool "parlor," they were confronted by an elderly man, with a small tuft of white whiskers on his chin, which moved up and down as he talked.
"Was that Dick Hamilton who just passed?" asked the old man.
"Sure," replied Simon, flippantly. "Do you know him?"
"I guess I ought to, I'm his uncle," was the answer. "But I couldn't see very good, 'cause the sun was in my eyes. Now, didn't I hear you say you didn't care whether or not his yacht sunk."
"Oh, we were only fooling," spoke Guy, with an uneasy laugh, thinking he was to be called to account for the remark.
"Oh, you needn't worry," returned Ezra Larabee, quickly. "I just happened to hear what you said, and it occurred to me that perhaps you two lads, who, I believe, are acquainted with my nephew, would like to earn a little money easily. Would you?"
"Would we? Well, I should lose a gold tooth if we wouldn't, old sport!" exclaimed Simon, slangily. "What's the game?"
