I'm far too busy to loaf about, arguing with you." And with this the hard-featured old boat builder--who had made his money literally by the sweat of his brow--turned once more to his task of figuring out the blue prints of a racing sloop.
Sam saw that it was no use to argue further with his father, and left the shop with no very pleasant expression on his countenance.
"I'll have to see if I can't borrow it somewhere," he mused.

"If only I was on better terms with Rob Blake, I could get it from him, I guess.
His father is a banker and he must have plenty.

I wonder--I wonder if Mr.Blake himself wouldn't lend it to me.

I could give him a note for it, and in three months' time I'd be sure to be able to take it up." With this end in view, the lad started for the Hampton Bank.

It required some courage for a youth of his disposition to make up his mind to beard the lion in his den--or, in other words, to approach Mr.
Blake in his office.