"Let's meet on Main Street after supper," Dick proposed. "Perhaps
by that time we'll have found an idea or two."

"If we can find a pocketbook or two lying in the Main Street gutter,
that will be something more practical than finding ideas," Tom
replied with a doleful shake of his head. "But perhaps we'll
really find the pocketbooks. Such things are told of in story
books, anyway, you know."

"If we find any pocketbooks," smiled Dick, "our first concern
after that will be to find the owners of them. So that stunt
wouldn't do us much good, even if it happened."

Then the boys separated and went to their respective homes for
supper. But Dick Prescott did not eat as much as usual. He was
too preoccupied. He knew to a penny the amount that was in the
treasury of their little canoe club, for Mr. Prescott was holding
the money subject to his son's call. Certainly the money in the
treasury wouldn't bring about a vacation at Lake Pleasant.

Just as soon as the meal was over Dick went out, strolling back
to Main Street.

"'Lo, Dick!"

Prescott turned to recognize and nod to a barefooted boy, rather
frayed as to attire. Mart Heckler had been two classes below
him when Prescott had attended Central Grammar School. Now Mart
was waiting for the fall to enter the last grade at Central, which
was also to be his last year at school. Mart's parents were poor,