d we both sat
there gaping at it and thinking.

"I'm hanged if I know," Westy said; "it would take Tom Slade to dope
that out."

"Maybe Skinny was looking at the book and shut it with the two dollar
bill inside," I said.

"How about the stain?" Westy asked me.

"Jingoes, it's a puzzle," I said.

All of a sudden he laid the book down open and laid the bill on it and
then he laid the oar-lock on the bill. Then he just sat there like as
if he was studying. Pretty soon he said, "We have to get a new copy for
the library, anyway. Do you mind if I make another stain on this one?
I've got a sort of an idea."

"Go ahead," I said.

So now I'll tell you just what he did and you'll see how it solved the
puzzle. And, believe me, you'll have to admit that Westy's a pretty
smart fellow. If you have an old book you don't care anything about, you
can even try it and you don't even need an oar-lock. Westy turned to a
new place in the book and then he laid the bill down on the right hand
page. Then he laid the oar-lock on the bill. "That's just exactly what
you did when you laid the bill down in such a hurry that night you were
fixing Skinny up. You laid it on the open book just like that--see?"

"Maybe I did." I said, "but what's the big idea, kind sir?"

"Well, then," he said, "I came up here to get your two bucks for you,
didn't I? And you remember I told you there was a breeze blowing? Now
what did I do--in the dark?"

"Search me," I said.

"Why, you big galook, I felt around in the dark and lifted the oar-lock
off the bill and then felt there for it, but the breeze was too quick
for me. It blew the page over and I slapped my hand down on--what?"

"Another page," I said; "good night!"

"Good-bye two dollar bill," he said, "it was between those two other
pages. That's why there was a stain on the right page in the book.
There was a stain on the bill made by the oar-lock and when the page
and the bill blew over, the fresh oil on the bill kind of stamped
itself on the left hand page. You didn't damage the book. You only
damaged the bill. It was the breeze that damaged the book--see?"

"Believe me! I'll be responsible," I told him.

"That breeze was a thief," he said.

"It'll come to grief some day," I told him. Then we both began to laugh.

"And it's lucky I got that book out of the library," he said. "There
was your two bucks tucked away all nice and neat between the pages.
It was just where Jim Hawkins was starti