"Isn't it time that money was here?" he would ask.
"Yes; and I'm looking for a letter every day. But don't be in a hurry. Those gentlemen are, no doubt, full of business, and they will write to us just as soon as they can find the time."
Bob always departed satisfied, and with renewed hopes that in a day or two, at the very farthest, his bright dreams would all be realized.
Sam Barton was also in a fever of excitement. He was not ignorant of the fact that every move he made, both night and day, was closely watched by his rival, and it kept him in constant fear. Of course he was obliged to give the cave a wide berth; but every night one of the members of the band visited their hiding-place, with provisions for the dog, and to stow away any new articles that were collected during the day. Their outfit was now complete, and some of the boys thought it high time they were beginning their cruise; but how should they elude the vigilance of Bob Jennings? This question was discussed by the band every day for two weeks, without reaching any satisfactory conclusion.
Tom Newcombe was another very uneasy boy. He spent a small portion of his time in attending to his business, and wasted many an hour in running to the post-office to make inquiries concerning the letter that was to bring him a check for five thousand dollars. But the postmaster's invariable answer was--
"O, now, there ought to be," Tom would say. "Please look again."
"Your father's box is empty," the postmaster would reply. "If you are really in want of a letter, and can not possibly do without it, I'll write you one myself."
Whenever the postmaster said this, Tom would leave the office in a terrible rage. In fact, he was very cross at all times; and, if every thing did not work to his entire satisfaction, he would storm and scold at a great rate.
From the post-office he would go to the ship-yard and look at his yacht. A strong force of men were at work upon her, and under their skillful hands Tom saw the little vessel grow into shape, until, at last, he found before him what he considered to be the very perfection of marine architecture. He soon found that he was not the only one who admired her, for the report having been circulated through the village that Mr. Graves was building the most magnificent little vessel that had ever been seen about Newport, crowds of boys visited the ship-yard to satisfy themselves of the truth of the story. Johnny Harding, especially, spent an hour or two there every day, watching the progress of the work, and trying in vain to ascertain who was to be the happy owner of the yacht; but Mr. Graves never said any thing on this point, for Tom thought it best to keep the affair very quiet; and Johnny, to his great disappointment, could learn nothing positive. He had his suspicions, however, and, under the circumstances, that was not to be wondered at. Every time he visited the yard, he saw Tom strutting about, examining every thing with a critical eye, and the very dignified manner in which he treated all his attempts to enter into conversation with him convinced Johnny that there was "something up." More than that, Tom could not help hinting, very mysteriously that those of his acquaintances who had deserted him so shamefully would soon have occasion to repent of what they had done; and Johnny would have been dull indeed, if he had not been able to understand that something unusual was going on.