"Do ye know him?"
"Yeh, he's my paw," said a sun-bleached freckle-face.
"If you bring him here right away, I'll give you a dime. Tell him
I'm from Warren's with a cargo."
The dusty stampede that followed was like that of a mustang herd,
for a dime was a dime in those days. And very soon, a tall,ruddy
man appeared at the dock. He was a Dutchman in name only. At
first sight he was much like the other loafers, but was bigger,
and had a more business-like air when observed near at hand.
"Are you from Warren's?"
"Yes, sir."
"Alone? "
"No, sir. I came with Bill Bymus. But he went off early this
morning; I haven't seen him since. I'm afraid he's in trouble."
"Where'd ho go?"
"In there with some friends."
"Ha, just like him; he's in trouble all right. He'll be no good
for a week. Last time he came near losing all our stuff. Now
let's see what ye've got."
"Are you Mr. Peter Vandam? "
"Of course I am."
Still Rolf looked doubtful. There was a small group around, and
Rolf heard several voices, "Yes, this is Peter; ye needn't
a-worry." But Rolf knew none of the speakers. His look of
puzzlement at first annoyed then tickled the Dutchman, who
exploded into a hearty guffaw.
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