money I have in
advertising for those missing property papers."

"Do you think it will do any good?"

"It won't do any harm. I hate to put out the money, but I guess we can
stand it now. The boating season will last for two months and more yet."

"Yes, Ralph, and we can save all you earn over six dollars a week. Of
course the money is yours----"

"No more mine than my dear mother's," he interrupted. "I think we ought to
save what we can."

"It is best, so that we shall not have to touch what is in the bank should
you not strike another situation at once after the boating season closes."

"But you are willing I should advertise, are you not, mother?"

"Oh, yes, Ralph. We must obtain the papers, if possible. If there is really
a boom in Westville real estate this lake shore property ought to become
valuable."

"I thought of putting an advertisement in the _County Record_, and also one
in the Chambersburgh _Leader_. Those are the principal papers read around
here."

"That is so, Ralph, but do you know their rates?"

"I will write and find out."

On Monday night, after a pleasant day on the lake with Mr. Larkins and his
young friends, Ralph sat down and wrote the letters. Two days later the
replies came back. He found the advertising rates of both journals quite
moderate, and at once sent each an advertisement, to appear in the Lost and
Found column several issues.

Mr. Larkins liked the sailing and fishing so well, as well as the efforts
of the young skipper to please him and his party, that he hired the sloop
for both Wednesday and Thursday additional. Ralph took them up and down Big
Silver Lake several times, and also through the draw and down Silver Lake.

On the latter trip Ralph saw Percy Paget, who sat on the bridge, talking
earnestly to Dan Pickley. The young aristocrat stared hard at Ralph.

"In a new business, eh?" he sneered, as the sloop ran through the draw.

Ralph paid no attention to him, and soon they were too far away from the
bridge for Percy to attempt to say more.

"Who is that young man?" asked Mr. Larkins, with a considerable show of
interest.

"That is Percy Paget, the son of the village squire," returned Ralph.

"A friend of yours?"

"No sir," and there was a decided ring in the boy's tones. "If anything, he
is my worst enemy."

"I imagine he is not a very nice youth," went on the gentleman.

"He is not, sir. He is very overbearing, and will do anything, no matter
how mean,