Bobby felt happy, and almost dreaded the idea of parting with his rough but good-hearted friend They were now far out at sea, and the night was coming on.
"Now, sonny, you had better turn in and take a snooze; you didn't rest much last night." "I am not sleepy; but there is one thing I will do; and Bobby drew from his secret receptacle his roll of bills.
"Put them up, sonny," said Sam.
"I want to make you a present of ten dollars." "You can't do it." "Nay, but to please me." "No, sir!" "Well, then, let me send it to your good wife." "You can't do that, nuther," replied Sam, gazing earnestly at a lumber-laden schooner ahead of him.
"You must; your good heart made you lose five dollars, and I insist upon making it up to you." "You can't do it." "I shall feel bad if you don't take it.

You see I have twenty dollars here, and I would like to give you the whole of it." "Not a cent, sonny.

I ain't a heathen.

That schooner ahead is bound for Boston, I reckon." "I shall be sorry to part with you, Mr.Ray." "Just my sentiment.

I hain't seen a youngster afore for many a day that I took a fancy to, and I hate to let you go." "We shall meet again." "I hope so." "Please to take this money." "No;" and Sam shook his head so resolutely that Bobby gave up the point.
As Sam had conjectured, the lumber schooner was bound to Boston.