"Yes, and I want to know if you'll sell me one to match?"
"Sure I will," answered Ike Rasmer, with a twinkle in his eye. He threw down his paint brush and walked into his boathouse. "Here you be, my boy!" And he held up the parts of a broken oarlock.
"Well—I—I didn't want a broken one," stammered the senator's son.
"Didn't ye say you wanted one to match? Ho, ho! I reckon I cotched you that trip, didn't I?" And the man continued to laugh, and Dave and Phil joined in.
"Ike must have swallowed a whetstone this morning," observed Dave.
"A whetstone?" queried the old boatman.
"Why?"
"You're so awfully sharp."
"Ho, ho! That's one on me, sure enough."
The man slapped Dave on the shoulder. "You Hall boys are the cute ones, ain't ye? Well, if you want a good oarlock, you shall have it," and he brought forth a number, that Roger might make his selection. The senator's son did so, and paid for it out of his pocket-money.
"We ought to pay for part of that," said Dave, always ready to do what was fair.
"Oh, don't bother, Dave; it's only a trifle," answered his chum.
