TOBY IS DOWNHEARTED
The next morning the Johnstown ferry began operations, at least
theoretically. As a matter of fact, no one had appeared by nine
o’clock, and, after pondering the matter, the boys decided to omit
the first trip, arguing that if there were no passengers at this end
there’d be none at the other, or, if there were, it wouldn’t hurt them
to wait until 11.30! Toby was disappointed and showed it. He hadn’t
expected that the capacity of the _Urnove_ would be taxed on its maiden
voyage as a ferryboat, but he had looked forward to having at least one
passenger. Sitting idly there in the hot sun on the hard seats of the
little gray launch made one feel decidedly flat! Arnold, though, was
not in the least downcast. He had more perfectly plausible reasons for
the lack of patronage than Toby, in an unnaturally pessimistic frame of
mind, could counter. “You wait until eleven,” said Arnold cheerfully.
“Bet you we’ll have three or four then!”
When it was evident that there was to be no excuse for making the
nine o’clock trip they went up the gangplank and found seats in the
shade of a shed at the end of the wharf, and presently Toby forgot
his disappointment. They talked of yesterday’s ball game and Arnold,
who had gone off the field a little bit peeved, today laughed at his
grouch. “You surely turned the trick on us, Toby! Frank was as mad
as――as――――”
“As mustard,” interjected Toby helpfully.
Arnold accepted the simile doubtfully. “Well, he was some peeved,
anyhow. He says you didn’t play fair, but I told him――――”
“I didn’t,” responded Toby.
“Well, no more did we.”
“That wasn’t any reason for my pulling that raw trick, though. The
trouble was that I got mad at being caught off third like that, and
wanted to get square.”
“Well, I don’t blame you. That hide-the-ball business was got up by
Frank and Phillips. I didn’t know anything about it until they pulled
it. I don’t like that sort of piffle. Toby, I say if you’re going to
play ball, why, play ball!”
“Yes, we both――both teams, I mean――played baby. I wished afterward I
hadn’t done it. Even when you win like that you don’t really feel right
about it. Anyway, I don’t.”
“Shucks, what’s the odds! I’ll own I was sort of sore yesterday, but
now I’m glad you did it. It was only what we deserved. Besides, it’s
made Frank so grouchy he can’t see straight. He’s going to keep the
team going and try to get you fellows to play again. He called me a
quitter and got quite nasty about it.”
“If he keeps at it long enough,” observed Toby dryly, “he’s bound to
beat us. What time is it?”
“Twenty-five to ten,” answered Arnold. “We don’t have to sit here, so
let’s go over and see how the boat’s getting on. Say, I wish we could
think of a name for her.”
“All names I like you don’t,” said Toby as they ascended the lane to
Harbor Street. “Why don’t you do the way we did with the _Turnover_?
Knock off the first and last letters, I mean.”
Arnold stared blankly. “Knock off―――― But we haven’t got any letters
yet, you idiot!”
“That’s so,” replied Toby demurely. “Let’s go to the postoffice.”
Arnold swung about obediently before he thought to ask, “What for?”
“To get some letters,” said Toby.
Arnold tried to reach him with the toe of one water-stained white
buckskin shoe, but was foiled by Toby’s agility, and they went on
again. “There was a yawl I knew once called _Saucy Sal_,” observed
Arnold presently.
“How well did you know her?” asked Toby.
“You’re too bright for anything today!” said the other, in a grieved
tone. “If you’re so smart why don’t you think of a name for me?”
“I didn’t know you wanted one. I can think of several,” said Toby
significantly, “but you mightn’t like them.”
“I mean for the boat, you chump! It’ll be ready to launch before we
know it, and you just can’t launch a boat without a name!”
“All right, Arn, I’ll put my giant intellect at work tonight. I always
think better after I’m in bed, don’t you?”
“No, I don’t. When I get to bed I go to sleep.”
“So do I after a while, but I always think things over first.”
“Now don’t forget that we ought to be back at the landing at a quarter
to eleven. The trouble with you is that when you get in there looking
at that knockabout you forget everything.”
“There’s one thing I don’t forget,” chuckled Arnold, “and that’s
dinner!”
They were back on the float at a little past the half-hour and Toby
seized a rag and performed a lot of quite unnecessary polishing during
the ensuing wait. Perhaps it relieved his nervousness. At a quarter
to eleven Chuck Morgan and Snub Mooney descended the gangplank. Chuck
had thirty-five cents and Snub twenty-two, and they tried to engineer
a deal whereby they were to be taken across to Johnstown and back for
fifty-seven cents in cash and a promise of eighteen cents more at some
future date. Snub said he thought Toby ought to make a special rate to
his friends.
“I will,” said Toby. “I’ll take one of you over and back for
fifty-seven or I’ll take you both one way for it. Which do you choose?”
“Oh, go on, Toby! Have a heart! Honest, we’ll pay you the other
eighteen, won’t we, Chuck? I’ll give it to you tomorrow, or maybe next
day.”
“This is business, Snub,” answered Toby emphatically. “If you fellows
want to make the trip over and back I’ll take you this once for
nothing. But the next time you’ll have to pay full fare, friends or no
friends.”
“All right,” agreed Snub cheerfully. “I guess we won’t ever want to go
again! Anybody else coming?”
Toby looked at the town clock and shook his head, trying not to appear
disappointed. “I guess not this trip,” he replied.
“Better wait five minutes more,” said Arnold, “in case some one’s late,
you know.”
But Toby shook his head resolutely. “They’ve got to be on time if
they’re coming with me. This ferry sails right on the hour. Cast off
that line, Arn, will you?”
And so, after all, the _Urnove_ made its first trip, if not without
passengers, at least without profit. But when she was out of the
harbor, with the waves slapping at her bow and the fresh breeze
ruffling damp hair, both boys forgot to be downcast and they had a very
merry sail across the smiling blue water. They tied up at the little
spindly pier at Johnstown promptly at eleven-twenty and waited. Now and
then, ostensibly to get the cooler breeze above, Toby climbed to the
pier. The approach to it was in sight for a couple of hundred yards and
always, before returning to the float, Toby’s gaze wandered anxiously
and longingly up the road. But eleven-thirty came without a passenger
and the _Urnove_ cast off again and began her homeward voyage. By that
time Toby was frankly despondent, and he had little to say on the way
back. It was becoming painfully evident that the Johnstown ferry was
not to be a financial success!
But when he got home for dinner――Arnold had resisted the temptation
to accept Toby’s invitation and had chugged back to the Head in the
_Frolic_――the gloom was slightly illumined by a letter which Phebe put
in his hand. Toby had almost forgotten Mr. Whitney, but the letter
corrected that, for it announced that the contractor would be at the
landing the next morning at eight to be carried over to Johnstown.
Toby’s face brightened. Mr. Whitney would pay three dollars! Then he
recalled the fact that he had decided that Mr. Whitney was to pay
the same as others, and his countenance fell again. Still, if the
contractor arrived at eight it would mean a special trip, and a special
trip was a different matter! He determined to lay the question before
Arnold after dinner, being, of course, quite certain of Arnold’s
decision! But that letter cheered him up and he had no difficulty in
eating a very satisfactory meal, and felt a whole lot better after it.
Phebe made the trip across with them at two, and again at four, and if
it hadn’t been that Toby was horribly disappointed over the absence
of patronage they’d have had a pretty good time. Even as it was they
enjoyed it. Between trips they sat, the three of them, in a shady and
breezy corner of the boat yard, from where, by craning their necks a
bit, they could see the town landing, and tried to decide on a name
for the knockabout. They canvassed every name they had ever heard of or
could think of, but none seemed to please Arnold. Toby at last told him
he was too hard to suit.
“There aren’t any more names, I guess,” he said. “Not unless you get
a city directory and go through it. I think _Slap-Dash_ is the best.
Don’t you, Phebe?”
“I like _Foam_ better. It’s prettier.”
“Girls,” said Toby sententiously, “always want something pretty. Gee,
I’ll bet there are eighty-eleven million boats called _Foam_!”
“That doesn’t matter, does it?” asked Phebe. “I suppose there are lots
of boats called _Slap-Dash_, too.”
“Not near so many. Besides――――”
“I don’t like either of those names much,” said Arnold apologetically.
There was a discouraged silence then until Phebe observed:
“I don’t see why you don’t call it the _Arnold_. _Arnold’s_ a pretty
name――――”
“Wow!” jeered Toby. “There’s one for you, Arn. A pretty name for a
pretty boy, eh?”
Arnold threw a chip at him. “A fellow wouldn’t want to name a boat
after himself,” he demurred.
“There was a man around here a couple of years ago,” said Toby, “who
had a sloop he called the _A. L._ We used to say it stood for always
last, but it was really just his initials. You might call yours the _A.
D._”
Arnold considered. “_A. D._,” he murmured. “Say, that isn’t so bad, is
it? It――it’s sort of short and――and neat, eh?”
“Yes, and you could call it _Anno Domini_ for long,” laughed Toby.
Arnold’s face clouded. “Yes, I suppose fellows would get up all sorts
of silly meanings for it. If it wasn’t for that――――”
Phebe clapped her hands. “I’ve got it!” she cried. “Call it the
_Aydee_!”
“That’s what we said,” began Toby.
“No, not the letters, Toby,” explained Phebe. “‘A-y-d-e-e,’ _Aydee_! I
think that would be lovely!”
“That’s not so worse,” commented Arnold, reaching for a chip and his
pencil. “Let’s see what it would look like.” He printed it in capital
letters, viewed it, and passed it around. “I think it’s clever, Toby.
Folks wouldn’t know it stood for anything, would they? It sounds
like――like a name out of the ‘Arabian Nights,’ or――or something.”
“_Aydee_ it is, then,” declared Toby. “Funny, but I was just going to
suggest that myself!”
“Yes, you were!” Arnold jeered. “Like fun! That’s Phebe’s name, and
Phebe will have to christen her! We’ll have a regular christening
ceremony, folks, and break a bottle of――of――――”
“Root beer,” suggested Toby.
“Well, something over her bow as she glides――glides――――”
“And I’ll recite ‘The Launching of the Ship,’” said Toby, “and you’ll
wave a couple of flags and――――”
“And Mr. Murphy will scream ‘All hands!’” laughed Phebe. “It will be a
perfectly wonderful affair, Arnold!”
“Well, it will. You wait and see.” Arnold jumped up. “Come on and we’ll
go and tell Long Tim what her name is. Would you have it painted on in
gold, Toby, or would you put brass letters on?”
“Brass letters. Gold-leaf comes off too easily. You two go ahead. I’m
going back to the landing. It’s almost four.”
After the _Urnove_ had returned from her last trip and was tied to
the boat-yard pier again, and Arnold had slipped out of sight in the
_Frolic_, Toby and Phebe walked across the yard and the road and
perched themselves on the stone steps of the cottage. “I guess,” said
Toby after a little silence, “it isn’t going to go.”
“I’m awfully sorry,” murmured Phebe. “But you won’t give up after just
one day, will you?”
“N-no, I guess I’ll finish out the week. There’s just tomorrow and
Saturday. If something doesn’t happen by then I’ll call it off. It’s
funny, too, sis, for I’ll just bet you anything lots of folks went over
to Johnstown today by road. Why couldn’t they let me take ’em over? It
wouldn’t have cost any more. Not so much!”
“Maybe they don’t know about it yet,” said Phebe encouragingly. “It
takes time to――to get things started, you know.”
“Some one ought to know about it by this time,” replied the boy
disconsolately. “If we’d only had one passenger it wouldn’t have been
so bad, but not to have had any――――”
“Toby, I’m just as sure as anything that you’ll do better tomorrow!”
“Well, I couldn’t do much worse,” Toby answered ruefully. “Let’s go
in.”