"What's that?" demanded Fred at last. "Whose is it? What is it
doing on board the Black Growler?"
"It's a railway mortgage bond and given by one of the strongest
railroads in the United States," said Grant, who had been looking
carefully at the surprising discovery which his friend had made.
"Is it good for anything?" inquired John.
"Not much," laughed Grant. "Only five thousand dollars, that's
all."
"Do you mean to tell me you could get five thousand dollars for
that piece of paper?"
"Yes, sir, I think you could."
"Well, then," said John, "why don't we do it? It may be as good
as money, as you say, but I think I'd rather see the cold cash.
Where can we get the money?"
"It might take a little time to get it cashed, but almost any
bank would pay it. It's not a registered bond and it looks as if
it was all right every way."
"Yes, but whose is it?" said Fred. "That's what troubles me."
"I guess you won't have any trouble in finding out whose bond it
is," laughed George. "Though I must confess I don't see how it
came on board."
"Neither do I," said Fred slowly. "It must have been here some
time."
"Yes," said John dryly. "I guess this is the first time we have
turned over or shaken out the cushions."
" 'We' have shaken out, is good," retorted Fred. "I was doing
this little job all myself. There wasn't a fellow who offered to
lend a hand.
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