given us some little thing we could thank you, but it seems silly to say
just the same thing when we have a thing like this given to us, and yet
it seems worse for us to go away without saying anything. I guess you
know what I mean."

"You must promise to be careful--can you all swim?"

"We are scouts," laughed Roy.

"And that means you can do anything, I suppose."

"No, not that," Roy answered, "but we do want to tell you how much we
thank you--you and your father."

"Especially you," put in Pee-wee.

She smiled, a pretty wistful smile, and her eyes glistened. "You did
more for me," she said, "you got my bird back. I care more for that bird
than I could ever care for any boat. My brother brought it to me from
Costa Rica."

She stepped back to the auto. The chauffeur was already in his place,
and the two men were coiling up their ropes and piling the heavy planks
and rollers on board the truck. The freshly painted boat was growing dim
in the gathering darkness and the lordly hills across the river were
paling into gray again. As the little group paused, a deep, melodious
whistle re-echoed from the towering heights and the great night boat
came into view, her lights aloft, plowing up midstream. The _Good Turn_
bobbed humbly like a good subject as the mighty white giant passed. The
girl watched the big steamer wistfully and for a moment no one spoke.

"Was your brother--fond of traveling?" Roy ventured.

"Yes, he was crazy for it," she answered, "and you can't bring _him_
back as you brought my bird back--you _can't_ do everything after all."

It was Tom Slade who spoke now. "We couldn't do any more than try," said
he. He spoke in that dull, heavy manner, and it annoyed Roy, for it
seemed as if he were making fun of the girl's bereavement.

Perhaps it seemed the same to her, for she turned the subject at once.
"I'm going to sit here until you are in the boat," she said.

They pulled the _Good Turn_ as near the shore as they could bring her
without grounding for the tide was running out, and Pee-wee held her
with the rope while the others went aboard over a plank laid from the
shore to the deck. Then Pee-wee followed, hurrying, for there was
nothing to hold her now.

They clambered up on the cabin, Roy waving the naval flag, and Pee-wee
the name pennant, while Tom cast the anchor, for already the _Good Turn_
was drifting.

"Good-bye!" they cried.

"Good-bye!" she called back, waving her handkerchief as