"You have done well, Donald," said Mrs. Ramsay. "I thank God that you have been so successful."
"I have paid nearly all my bills, and I shall make about two hundred and fifty dollars on the job," added the young boat-builder. "I think I can build the next one for less money."
"You may not get another one to build, my son."
"That depends upon the race to-morrow. If I beat the Skylark, I'm sure of one."
"I am to sail the Maud to-morrow, and if there is any speed in her, as I think there is, I shall get it out of her. To-morrow will be a big day for me; but if I lose the race, the firm of Ramsay & Son is used up."
Donald put the check in his wallet, and went out to the shop again, where he found Samuel Rodman looking for him. The owner of the Maud was so delighted with the craft, that he could not keep away from her, and he wanted to go on board again.
"Bob Montague is going to give you a hard pull to-morrow, Don John," said Rodman, as they got into the tender.
"I hope he will do his best; and the harder the pull, the better," replied Donald.
"I expect to beat him; but I may be mistaken."
"Bob hauled up the Skylark on the beach this afternoon, and rubbed her bottom with black lead."
"I wonder if he knows I am to build a yacht for Mr. Norwood, in case I win this race."
"I don't believe he does. I never heard of it till you told me."
"He is such a splendid fellow, that I was afraid he would _let_ me beat him, if he knew I was to make anything by it."
"But I want to beat the Skylark fairly, or not at all."
"There comes Laud Cavendish," said Rodman, as the Juno came up the bay, and bore down upon the Maud. "He was blackballed in the club the other day, and he don't feel good. Let's go ashore again, and wait till he sheers off, for I don't want to see him. He will be sure to go on board of the yacht if we are there, for he is always poking his nose in where he is not wanted."
Donald, who was at the oars, pulled back to the shore. The Juno ran close up to the Maud, tacked, and stood up the bay.
"He is gone," said Rodman. "I don't want him asking me why he was blackballed. He is an intolerable spoony."
"Don John!" called some one, as he was shoving off the tender.
Donald looked up, and saw Mr. Beardsley, the deputy sheriff, who had been working up the tin box case with Captain Patterdale.