"We haven't any such sum of money, Mr. Driggs," Dick went on.
"Too bad, boys, for you'd probably have a lot of fun in this craft.
If you want to sell it, maybe I could allow you four dollars
for the craft as she stands."
"We'd hate to part with the canoe," Dick continued.
"I know, I know," remarked Driggs sympathetically. "It was wanting
a boat badly when I was a boy that drove me into the boat business.
But I didn't have to handle birch bark then, or my first craft
would have sunk me. Say, boys, great joke how young Ripley got
stung so badly, wasn't it?"
"I know about how he feels," remarked Dick.
"Yes, of course," smiled Driggs. "But you boys are entitled to
some honest sympathy. I don't imagine young Ripley will get much
sympathy, will he?"
"Not a heap," Greg Holmes answered.
"Well," resumed Driggs, "I ain't a mite sorry for the boy and
his make-believe pony. But I wish I could help you with your
boat, for I know you haven't any loose money to throw around like
young Rip."
Driggs dug his hands deep into his pockets and wrinkled his brow
in thought.
At last he looked up hopefully.
"I'll tell you what I've been thinking about, boys. The town
will be laughing at young Ripley to-morrow. But Rip, he'll be
passing the laugh around on you young fellers, too. Now, I don't
mind Rip's troubles; but it's different with you boys, and I know
how it stings to part with all the money you could scrape together.
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