Intelligent Signal Processing 1st Edition Simon S Haykin
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- 5. Intelligent Signal Processing 1st Edition Simon S Haykin Digital Instant Download Author(s): Simon S Haykin, Bart Kosko ISBN(s): 9780780360105, 0780360109 Edition: 1 File Details: PDF, 38.62 MB Year: 2001 Language: english
- 6. INTELLIGENT SIGNAL PROCESSING Edited by Simon Haykin McMaster University Hamilton, Ontario, Canada Bart Kosko University of Southern California Los Angeles, CA, USA A Selected Reprint Volume IEEE PRESS The Institute 6f Electrical and Electronics Engineers, Inc., New York
- 7. This book and other books may be purchased at a discount from the publisher when ordered in bulk quantities. Contact: IEEE Press Marketing Attn: Special Sales 445 Hoes Lane P.O. Box 1331 Piscataway, NJ 08855-1331 Fax: ÷1 732 981 9334 For more information about IEEE Press products, visit the IEEE Online Catalog and Store: http://www.ieee.org/store. © 2001 by the Institute of Electrical and Electronics Engineers, Inc. 3 Park Avenue, 17th Floor, New York, NY 10016-5997. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form, nor may it be stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form, without written permission from the publisher. Printed in the United States of America. 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1 ISBN 0-7803-6010-9 IEEE Order No. PC5860 Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Intelligent signal processing / edited by Simon Haykin, Bart Kosko. p. cm. "A selected reprint volume." Includes index. ISBN 0-7803-6010-9 1. Signal processingmDigital techniques. 2. Intelligent control systems. 3. Adaptive signal processing. I. Haykin, Simon S., 1931- II. Kosko, Bart. TK5102.9.I5455 2000 621.382'2mdc21 00-061369
- 8. This book is dedicated to Bernard Widrow for laying the foundations of adaptive filters
- 9. Preface This expanded reprint volume is the first book devoted to the new field of intelligent signal processing (ISP). It grew out of the November 1998 ISP special issue of the IEEE Proceedings that the two of us coedited. This book contains new ISP material and a fuller treatment of the articles that appeared in the ISP special issue. WHAT Is ISP? ISP uses learning and other "smart" techniques to extract as much information as possible from incoming signal and noise data. It makes few if any assumptions about the statistical structure of signals and their environment. ISP seeks to let the data set tell its own story rather than to impose a story on the data in the form of a simple mathematical model. Classical signal processing has largely worked with math- ematical models that are linear, local, stationary, and Gaussian. These assumptions stem from the precomputer age. They have always favored closed-form tractability over real-world accuracy, and they are no less extreme because they are so familiar. But real systems are nonlinear except for a vanishingly small set'of linear systems. Almost all bell-curve probabil- ity densities have infinite variance and infinite higher order moments. The set of bell-curve densities itself is a vanishin- gly small set in the space of all probability densities. Real- world systems are often highly nonlinear and can depend on many partially correlated variables. The systems can have an erratic or impulsive statistical structure that varies in time in equally erratic ways. Small changes in the signal or noise structure can lead to qualitative global changes in how the system filters noise or maintains stability. ISP has emerged recently in signal processing in much the same way that intelligent control has emerged from standard linear control theory. Researchers have guessed less at equations to model a complex system's throughput and have instead let so-called "intelligent" or "model- free" techniques guess more for them. Adaptive neural networks have been'the most popular black box tools in ISP. Multilayer perceptrons and radial- basis function networks extend adaptive linear combiners to the nonlinear domain but require vastly more computa- tion. Other ISP techniques include fuzzy rule-based sys- tems, genetic algorithms, and the symbolic expert systems of artificial intelligence. Both neural and fuzzy systems can learn with supervised and unsupervised techniques. Both are (like polynomials) universal function approximators: They can uniformly approximate any continuous function on a compact domain, but this may not be practical in many real-world cases. The property of universal approximation justifies the term "model free" to describe neural and fuzzy systems even though equations describe their own throughput structure. They are one-size-fits-all approxima- tors that can model any process if they have access to enough training data. But ISP tools face new problems when we apply them to more real-world problems that are nonlinear, nonlocal, nonstationary, non-Gaussian, and of high dimension. Prac- tical neural systems may require prohibitive computation to tune the values of their synaptic weights for large sets of high-dimensional data. New signal data may require total retraining or may force the neural network's vast and unfathomable set of synapses to forget some of the signal structure it has learned. Blind fuzzy approximators need a number of if-then rules that grows exponentially with the dimension of the training data. This volume explores how the ISP tools can address these problems. xvii
- 10. Preface ORGANIZATION OF THE VOLUME The 15 chapters in this book give a representative sample of current research in ISP and each has helped extend the ISP frontier. Each chapter passed through a full peer- review filter: 1. Steve Mann describes a novel technique that lets one include human intelligence in the operation of a wear- able computer. 2. Sanya Mitaim and Bart Kosko present the noise pro- cessing technique of stochastic resonance in a signal processing framework and then show how neural or fuzzy or other model-free systems can adaptively add many types of noise to nonlinear dynamical systems to improve their signal-to-noise ratios. 3. Malik Magdon-Ismail, Alexander Nicholson, and Yaser S. Abu-Mostafa explore how additive noise af- fects information processing in problems of financial engineering. 4. Partha Niyogi, Fredrico Girosi, and Tomaso Poggio show how prior knowledge and virtual sampling can expand the size of a data set that trains a generalized supervised learning system. 5. Kenneth Rose reviews how the search technique of deterministic annealing can optimize the design of un- supervised and supervised learning systems. 6. Jose C. Principe, Ludong Wang, and Mark A. Motter use the neural self-organizing map as a tool for the local modeling of a nonlinear dynamical system. 7. Lee A. Feldkamp and Gintaras V. Puskorius describe how time-lagged recurrent neural networks can per- form difficult tasks of nonlinear signal processing. 8. Davide Mattera, Francesco Palmieri, and Simon Hay- kin describe a semiparametric form of support vector machine for nonlinear model estimation that uses prior knowledge that comes from a rough parametric model of the system under study. 9. Yann LeCun, L6on Bottou, Yoshua Bengio, and Pat- rick Haffner review ways that gradient-descent learn- ing can train a multilayer perceptron for handwritten character recognition. 10. Shigeru Katagiri, Biing-Hwang Juang, and Chin-Hui Lee show how to use the new technique of generalized probabilistic gradients to solve problems in pattern rec- ognition. 11. Lee A. Feldkamp, Timothy M. Feldkamp, and Danil V. Prokhorov present an adaptive classification scheme that combines both supervised and unsupervised learning. 12. J. Scott Goldstein, J.R. Guescin and I.S. Reed describe an algebraic procedure based on reduced rank model- ing as a basis for intelligent signal processing 13. Simon Haykin and David J. Thomson discuss an adap- tive procedure for the difficult task of detecting a non- stationary target signal in a nonstationary background with unknown statistics. 14. Robert D. Dony and Simon Haykin describe an image segmentation system based on a mixture of principal components. 15. Aapo Hyv~irinen, Patrik Hoyar and Erkki Oja discuss how sparse coding can denoise images. These chapters show how adaptive systems can solve a wide range of difficult tasks in signal processing that arise in highly diverse fields. They are a humble but important first step on the road to truly intelligent signal processing. Simon Haykin McMaster University Hamilton, Ontario, Canada Bart Kosko University of Southern California Los Angeles, CA xviii
- 11. List of Contributors Chapter 1 Steve Mann University of Toronto Department of Electrical and Computer Engineering 10 King's College Road, S.F. 2001 Toronto, Ontario, M5S 3G4 CANADA Chapter 2 Bart Kosko Signal and Image Processing Institute Department of Electrical Engineering-Systems University of Southern California Los Angeles, California 90089-2564 Sanya Mitaim Signal and Image Processing Institute Department of Electrical Engineering-Systems University of Southern California Los Angeles, California 90089-2564 Chapter 3 Malik Magdon-Ismail Department of Electrical Engineering California Institute of Technology 136-93 Pasadena, CA 91125 Alexander Nicholson Department of Electrical Engineering California Institute of Technology 136-93 Pasadena, CA 91125 Yaser S. Abu-Mostafa Department of Electrical Engineering California Institute of Technology 136-93 Pasadena, CA 91125 Chapter 4 Partha Niyogi Massachusetts Institute of Technology Center for Biological and Computational Learning Cambridge, MA 02129 Fredrico Girosi Massachusetts Institute of Technology Center for Biological and Computational Learning Cambridge, MA 02129 Tomaso Poggio Massachusetts Institute of Technology Center for Biological and Computational Learning Cambridge, MA 02129 Chapter 5 Kenneth Rose Department of Electrical and Computer Engineering University of California Santa Barbara, CA_93106 Chapter 6 Jose C. Principe Computational NeuroEngineering Laboratory University of Florida Gainsville, FL 32611 Uudong Wang Computational NeuroEngineering Laboratory University of Florida Gainsville, FL 32611 Mark A. Motter Computational NeuroEngineering Laboratory University of Florida Gainsville, FL 32611 xix
- 12. INTELLIGENT SIGNAL PROCESSING Edited by Simon Haykin McMaster University Hamilton, Ontario, Canada Bart Kosko University of Southern California Los Angeles, CA, USA A Selected Reprint Volume IEEE PRESS The Institute 6f Electrical and Electronics Engineers, Inc., New York
- 13. This book and other books may be purchased at a discount from the publisher when ordered in bulk quantities. Contact: IEEE Press Marketing Attn: Special Sales 445 Hoes Lane P.O. Box 1331 Piscataway, NJ 08855-1331 Fax: ÷1 732 981 9334 For more information about IEEE Press products, visit the IEEE Online Catalog and Store: http://www.ieee.org/store. © 2001 by the Institute of Electrical and Electronics Engineers, Inc. 3 Park Avenue, 17th Floor, New York, NY 10016-5997. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form, nor may it be stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form, without written permission from the publisher. Printed in the United States of America. 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1 ISBN 0-7803-6010-9 IEEE Order No. PC5860 Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Intelligent signal processing / edited by Simon Haykin, Bart Kosko. p. cm. "A selected reprint volume." Includes index. ISBN 0-7803-6010-9 1. Signal processingmDigital techniques. 2. Intelligent control systems. 3. Adaptive signal processing. I. Haykin, Simon S., 1931- II. Kosko, Bart. TK5102.9.I5455 2000 621.382'2mdc21 00-061369
- 14. This book is dedicated to Bernard Widrow for laying the foundations of adaptive filters
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- 16. Toby nodded agreement. “I’d sure like it,” he muttered. “Isn’t there any way to earn that much?” pursued Arnold. “Look here, couldn’t you do anything with this launch? Couldn’t you sell her for something?” Toby looked startled. “I hadn’t thought of that,” he said slowly. “She wouldn’t fetch much, though. Besides, you can buy plenty of second-hand launches around here. They are as thick as blackberries. Maybe—maybe I’ll think of some way, though. I—I’ve sort of made up my mind to go to that Yardley Hall place, Arn, and when I make up my mind I most always get what I’m after. It’s funny, but that’s the way it is.” “Well, then, you make up your mind hard!” laughed Arnold. “And I’ll make up mine hard, too. And—and maybe it’ll really happen!” “Maybe. Sometimes it seems to me as if when you want a thing you’ve just got to set your mind on it and—and steer right straight for it, and you’ll get it. I don’t suppose it always happens like that, but pretty often it does. You’ve got to sort of concentrate, Arn; forget other things and pick up your marks and—and keep your course mighty steady.” Toby drew up his empty hook and began reeling the line. “Anyway, I’m going to try it.” For the next several days Toby had queer periods of thoughtfulness, going off into trances without warning and quite alarming Arnold, who feared, or professed to fear, that his chum’s mind was giving way. “It’s having all that money to think about,” declared Arnold. “If you’d only spend it for something it wouldn’t worry you.” “As long as that bank doesn’t bust,” answered the other, “I’m not troubling about the money. Your father said it was a very safe bank, didn’t he?” “Safe as any of them,” teased Arnold, “but, of course, you never can tell when the cashier or—or some one will take it into his head to start off to Canada!”
- 17. “Huh! They fetch ’em back now,” said Toby. “That doesn’t scare me. Dad says I might have put it in the postoffice, though.” “Buy stamps with it?” asked Arnold in a puzzled voice. “No, put it in the Postal Savings Bank. The government looks after it for you then, and I guess the government would be pretty safe, eh?” “So’s that bank you’ve got it in. If it wasn’t safe do you suppose father would keep money in it?” “N-no, I guess not. I wouldn’t want to lose that hundred and fifty though. I—I’ve got a use for that!” “Have you asked your father about Yardley yet?” Toby shook his head. “I thought I’d better wait until I had some more. Only thing is”—he frowned deeply—“I don’t know how to get any more! I’ve been thinking and thinking!” “Oh, well, there’s lots of time yet. Come on down to the shed and see how the boat’s getting along.” The knockabout was coming fast and Arnold never tired of watching Mr. Tucker and “Long Tim” and “Shorty” at work. Long Tim’s full name was Timothy Tenney. He stood fully six feet three inches tall when he straightened up, but that was seldom since the bending over to his work for some forty-odd years had put a perceptible stoop to his shoulders. Long Tim was thin and angular and weather beaten, with a fringe of grizzled whiskers from ear to ear, and very little in the way of hair above the whiskers. He loved to talk, and was a mine of strange, even unbelievable information which he was quite ready to impart in his nasal drawl. “Shorty” was Joe Cross, a small, square chunk of a man who had come ashore years before from a Newfoundland lumber schooner and had forgotten to return until the schooner had sailed again. Shorty had a family somewhere in Canada, and was forever threatening to go back to it, but never got further than New York. Long Tim came from a family of boat-builders, but Shorty had learned the trade under Mr.
- 18. Tucker. Both were capable workmen, although Long Tim looked on Shorty as still merely an apprentice, and shook his head dolefully when he was entrusted with any more particular task than driving a nail. If Arnold could have had his way he would have spent most of his waking hours sitting in the boat shed with his feet in sawdust and shavings and auger chips watching the knockabout grow and listening to the ceaseless drawling of Long Tim. But Toby wasn’t satisfied to dawdle like that and hailed Arnold off to various more lively occupations. Several afternoons during the next ten days were spent by Arnold, none too enthusiastically, in practicing ball with the Spanish Head team in preparation for that approaching game. Toby, too, put in a little time in a similar way, but the trouble with Toby’s team was that it was impossible to get all the fellows together at the same time. Usually they were shy from one to four players and were forced to fill up the ranks with such volunteers as were on hand. Arnold brought stirring tales of practice over at the Head and predicted overwhelming victory for his nine. But Toby refused to become alarmed. The Towners had won once, and he believed they could do it again. Even if they couldn’t there was still no harm done. Baseball was only baseball and some one had to lose! It was on a Wednesday, just a week after that first contest, that Toby stood on the town landing float and waited for Arnold to come over from the Head in the Frolic. At low tide it was finicky work getting up to the boat-yard pier, and Arnold tied up at the town float instead. The hour was still early, for in the Tucker cottage breakfast was at six-thirty in summer, and Toby had cleaned the spark-plug on the Turnover, mended a window screen, walked to the grocery store and back on an errand, and reached the landing, and, behind him, the clock in the church tower showed the time to be still well short of eight. Arnold had promised to come across early, however, since they had planned to run up to Riverport and get some hardware for the knockabout which was waiting for them at the freight depot. Save that Toby was seated across the bow of a dory instead of on a
- 19. box, he presented much the same appearance as at our first meeting with him. Perhaps his skin was a little deeper brown, and perhaps, as he gazed again across the harbor and bay, his face was a trifle more thoughtful—or his thoughtfulness a bit more earnest. And he was whistling a new tune under his breath, something that Phebe had of late been playing incessantly on the old-fashioned square piano in the cottage parlor. The harbor was quiet and almost deserted. On a black sloop, moored well off the landing, a man was busy with pail and swab, but, excepting for the gulls, he was the only moving thing in sight until footsteps sounded on the pier above and a man descended the gangplank. He was a middle-aged man in a suit of blue serge and square-toed shoes, and he carried a brown leather satchel. He looked like a person in a hurry, Toby concluded, although there was no apparent reason for his hurry. He looked impatiently about the float and then at Toby. “Isn’t there a ferry here?” he demanded. “No, sir. Where do you want to go?” “Johnstown. I thought there was a ferry over there. I was told there was.” He viewed Toby accusingly. Toby shook his head. “There used to be, sir, about six years ago, but the man who ran it died, and——” “Great Scott! Do you mean to tell me that I’ve got to go way around by Riverport? Why, that’ll take me two hours! And I’ve got an appointment there at nine! What sort of a place is this, anyway? No ferry! No place to get any breakfast! No—no——!” he sputtered angrily. “I guess it’ll take most of two hours by carriage,” agreed Toby, “but I can put you over there by eight-thirty, sir.” “You’ve got a boat?” “Yes, sir, but——”
- 20. “Where is it?” The stranger’s gaze swept over the bobbing craft. “I suppose it’s a sailboat and we’ll drift around out there half the morning. Well, I’ll try it. Good gracious, only seventy miles from the city and no—no accommodations of any sort! No place to eat, no ferry——” “Yes, sir, we’re sort of slow around here,” agreed Toby, calmly. “Slow! I should say you were slow! Well, where’s the boat? Bring it along! There’s no time to waste, young fellow!” “Well, if you don’t have to be there before nine”—Toby looked over his shoulder at the church clock—“you’ve got plenty of time to have some breakfast before we start. It’s only three miles across and I’ve got a launch that’ll do it in twenty minutes easy.” “Launch, eh? That’s better! Show me where I can get a cup of coffee then. I haven’t had anything to eat since last night. I left Southampton at six and there wasn’t time. Got a restaurant here somewhere, have you?” “Not exactly a restaurant,” replied Toby, “but if you’ll come with me I’ll show you where you can get some coffee and bread and butter. The launch is over there, anyway, so it won’t take much longer.” “Look ahead, then,” said the man. “I’ll go most anywhere for a cup of coffee!” The prospect of food seemed to better his humor, for all the way up the landing and around the road to the cottage he asked questions and conversed quite jovially. When, however, he discovered that the boy had led him to his home he was all for backing down. “It’s very kind of you,” he said, “but I wouldn’t want to bother any one to make coffee for me. I’ll wait till I get to Johnstown.” “It won’t be any trouble, sir, and my mother will be glad to do it. Gee, she’d like it if I’d bring some one around to be fed every day! Please, come right in, sir, and sit down, and mother’ll have something ready for you in no time.”
- 21. Hesitatingly, the stranger allowed himself to be conducted up the steps and into the sitting room, and Toby went to the kitchen and acquainted his mother with the needs of the occasion, producing in Mrs. Tucker a fine flurry of excitement and an enthusiastic delight. Ten minutes later, refreshed and grateful, the stranger—he had introduced himself as Mr. Whitney of New York—followed Toby through the yard, down the slippery ladder, and into the Turnover. If he felt dubious about trusting himself to that craft and to Toby’s seamanship, he made no sign. Toby cast off and then faced his passenger. “I guess,” he announced, “we’d ought to agree on a price before we start, sir.” “Eh? Oh, yes! Well, you’ve got me where I can’t say much, young fellow. Just be easy and there won’t be any kick from me. What’s the damage going to be?” “Well, sir, it’s three miles over there, and gasoline’s worth twenty- three cents this week, and——” “Don’t frighten me to death!” laughed the man. “Will five dollars do the trick?” “Five dollars!” Toby gasped. “Not enough? Call it seven-fifty then.” “It’s too much! Why, a dollar—or maybe, a dollar and a half——” The stranger laughed loudly. “Go ahead, then! But you’ll never be a millionaire if you do business that way. When any one offers you five dollars, young fellow, it’s poor business to take less.” Toby smiled as he put the handle in the fly-wheel. “Seems to me, sir,” he said, “it’s just as poor business to offer five dollars when the job’s only worth a dollar and a half!” “Well, that’s right, too!” The man chuckled. “Maybe that’s why I’m not a millionaire yet. Want me to do anything in the way of steering?”
- 22. “No, sir, thanks. I’ll steer from here.” The Turnover backed away from the pier, turned and crept out of the narrow channel, across the cove and into the harbor. Half-way to the entrance they passed a surprised Arnold at the wheel of the Frolic and Toby called across to him that he would be back about a quarter past nine. Arnold nodded and waved and the white launch and the gray swept past each other. The passenger came forward and made himself comfortable opposite Toby as the Turnover pointed her nose across the bay. In the course of the conversation that ensued above the clatter of the little engine Toby learned that Mr. Whitney was a contractor and that he was going to Johnstown to consult with a man about building a cottage there. “I’m doing some work at Southampton,” he explained, “and it’s going to be awkward for a while getting from one place to the other. Guess I’ll have to buy me one of these things, eh? Unless—look here, want to arrange to take me back and forth now and then? I’ll pay you three dollars the round trip.” “Yes, sir, I’d be glad to,” agreed Toby eagerly. “When would you want to go again?” “I don’t know that yet. This little tub seems pretty seaworthy. Run her a good deal, have you?” “Yes, sir, and others before her. She isn’t much to look at, but she’s a good boat.” “What do you call her?” “The Turnover.” “The which?” “Turnover, sir,” repeated Toby, smiling. “Well, that’s a pleasant, reassuring sort of name for a launch! Does she—does she do it—often?” “No, sir, she’s never done it yet,” laughed Toby. “You can’t tell much by names, Mr. Whitney.”
- 23. “H’m; well, I’m glad to hear it. I was thinking that maybe we’d better call that bargain off! Is that the landing ahead there?” “Yes, sir. We’ll be in in a minute or two.” “I suppose you get mail in Greenhaven? Well, I’ll drop you a line some day soon and tell you when I’ll be along next. Let me see, what’s your name?” “Tucker, sir; T. Tucker.” “T? For Thomas?” “N-no, sir; for Tobias; Toby for short.” “I see! Toby Tucker, Greenhaven, Long Island.” Mr. Whitney set the address down in a memorandum book. “All right, Toby, you’ll hear from me.” He replaced the little book in a vest pocket and pulled out a wallet. “Now, we’ll settle up for the present trip and start fair the next time.” He took a five-dollar bill from the purse and handed it across. “I—I can’t change that, sir,” said Toby. “You can let it go until next time.” “I don’t want you to change it, Toby. I guess five isn’t too much for that breakfast and this trip. It’s worth it to me, anyway.” “There isn’t any charge for breakfast,” Toby protested. “Well, then, we’ll call it a bonus on the contract. Stick it in your pocket, young fellow, and don’t look as if it was poison.” “But it’s a lot more than it ought to be,” stammered Toby. “Don’t you worry about that,” laughed the man. “It’s worth ten times five dollars to me to get here on time. Here we are! Much obliged to you, Tobias. See you again. Good-by!” Mr. Whitney, bag in hand, jumped nimbly to the float, waved a hand, and hurried away, leaving Toby the happy possessor of the magnificent sum of five dollars, a beatific prospect of more, and a wonderful idea!
- 25. T CHAPTER XII “T. TUCKER, PROP.” he wonderful idea he explained to Arnold as, half an hour later, they started off in the Frolic for Riverport. “What he said about the ferry put it in my head,” said Toby. “There used to be a ferry across to Johnstown five or six years ago. I guess there weren’t many passengers then, but it must have paid or else old Captain Gould wouldn’t have run it so long. And it seems to me there’d be more folks wanting to get across now than there was then. Why, six years ago there wasn’t a half dozen summer cottages around Greenhaven. And the hotel at Johnstown wasn’t built, either. I guess if folks knew there was a regular ferry across they’d use it. Don’t it seem so to you, Arn?” “Sure! But would the Turnover be big enough, Toby?” “She’ll hold eight without crowding, and I guess if I ever get eight folks at once I’ll be pretty lucky.” “How much would you charge?” “Fifty cents,” replied Toby promptly. “Do you think that’s too much? I could make a round trip rate of seventy-five, maybe.” “No, fifty cents isn’t much for a three-mile trip. How often would you make it?” “Four times a day, twice in the morning and twice in the afternoon. I could leave here at nine, say, and come back at ten. Then I could go over again at eleven, two, and four. Even if I carried only four passengers a day it would be two dollars, and that would make twelve dollars a week. And there’s twelve weeks yet, and that would be a hundred and forty-four dollars!”
- 26. “You’ve got to think about gas and oil, though, Toby.” “That’s so! Well, gas would cost me about twenty cents a day, and oil—say, five, although it wouldn’t come to so much. That would make it a dollar and seventy-five cents instead of two, wouldn’t it? How much would I have at the end of the summer?” Arnold did some mental arithmetic and announced the result as a hundred and twenty-six dollars. “But you’d ought to get more than four passengers a day, Toby, after folks heard about it. You could put up notices, couldn’t you?” “Yes, and I’d have a sign on the landing, and——” he paused and frowned. “I wonder if they’d make me pay for using the town landing. They might, you know.” “I don’t see why. It would be a—a public accommodation!” “I can find out. Anyway, they couldn’t ask much, I guess.” “If I were you I’d change the name of your launch, though,” Arnold advised. “Ladies might feel sort of—of nervous about going in a boat with a name like that.” “What would you call her?” asked Toby, dubiously. “Changing the name might change the luck, and my luck’s been pretty good lately.” “I don’t know. You could find another name all right. Say, Toby, why couldn’t I come in on it? I wouldn’t want any of the money, of course, but we could use the Frolic any time we had a lot of passengers. Would you mind if I helped?” “No, I’d be awfully glad to have you, only—do you think your father would want you to?” “He wouldn’t mind. I’ll ask him tonight. I could bring this boat over in the morning and then we could use whichever one we wanted to. Maybe if there were ladies going over they’d rather go in the Frolic.” “I guess maybe they would,” laughed Toby. “But there wouldn’t be many ladies, probably. I suppose if I took other folks over to
- 27. Johnstown for fifty cents I couldn’t ask Mr. Whitney to pay any more, could I?” “Why not? He made a bargain with you, didn’t he? If you got a dollar and a half from him, besides what you made from other people——” But Toby shook his head. “It wouldn’t be fair. I’d ask him the same as the rest. Only, maybe there won’t be any rest. It wouldn’t do any harm to try it for a couple of weeks, though, eh? And it might turn out fine!” “It will! I’ll bet there’s lots of folks over at the Head who’d be mighty glad to get over to Johnstown if they didn’t have to go all around by road. Why, it must be ten or twelve miles by the road!” All the way up the river to the landing at Riverport, all the way to the freight house, all the way back, laden with a forty-pound box of yacht hardware, and all the way home again they talked over the ferry scheme, Arnold becoming even more enthusiastic than Toby. They developed the plan until, in their imaginations, they could see a whole flotilla of ferryboats crossing the bay to Johnstown and Riverport and around to Shinnecock and even as far as Mattituck! And real ferryboats, too; fine white and gold cabin launches holding as many as thirty persons! And Toby was to stand at the wheel and navigate while Arnold, in a resplendent white duck suit and cap with crossed anchors on it was to collect the fares! The only thing that worried Arnold was that he would be so busy helping Toby operate the ferry line that he wouldn’t have time to use the new knockabout. But Toby brought partial consolation by pointing out that there’d be time, between trips, maybe, and that, anyway, they’d have the evenings. Even baseball went to the discard for the rest of that week, so busy were they planning and perfecting the new ferry service. Frank Lamson, whose one desire just then was to wreak vengeance on the town ball team, threatened mutiny, declaring that if Arnold didn’t call practice and attend it he and the other members of the Spanish Head team would take affairs into
- 28. their own hands and elect a new captain. Arnold managed to put him off until Monday, however, and by that time “Tucker’s Ferry Line” was about ready for business. Toby had decided to wait until Thursday before starting the service in order to play that ball game on Wednesday. Arnold would have canceled it willingly, but Toby declared that it wouldn’t be fair to the fellows who had joined his team, and practiced more or less faithfully, to disband without at least one more game. “After Wednesday I’ll tell them I can’t play any more and then they can choose another captain and keep on if they want to. Maybe if the ferry doesn’t succeed we can have some more games. It wouldn’t interfere with your playing, Arn, because we wouldn’t both have to attend to the ferry.” But Arnold denied that vigorously. “I’m going to do my full share of the work,” he declared. “Besides, I can play baseball most any time. Those fellows can find a new captain, if they like, and go on playing. I guess Frank will be glad to take the job. He doesn’t much like the way I’m doing it, anyway,” he concluded with a laugh. On Friday, Long Tim, painter as well as carpenter, planed down a four-foot pine plank after hours, sandpapered it, braided a small half-round along the edges, and covered the whole with a priming coat of white paint. And then, the following evening, while Toby and Arnold stood over him, breathless and admiring, he traced out the inscription “Johnstown Ferry,” filled in the letters with black, put another coat of white on the remainder of the surface, and finally finished up by placing a black border around all. The boys viewed the result with enthusiastic approval and sighed with regret when Long Tim turned it to the wall to dry. They found a new name for the Turnover that evening by the simple expedient of chopping off the first and last letters, and the launch became, for the summer at least, the Urnove. On Monday morning Toby parted with two dollars and a half of that precious five in exchange for fifty cardboard placards which announced startlingly:
- 29. GREENHAVEN-JOHNSTOWN FERRY Commencing Thursday, July 17, launches Frolic and Urnove will leave the town landing for Johnstown daily except Sunday at 9 and 11 A. M. and 2 and 4 P. M. Returning, leave Johnstown one-half hour later. Fare, one way, 50 cents. Round trip, 75 cents. T. Tucker, Prop. Armed with the placards, Toby and Arnold made the round of the principal stores in Greenhaven and Johnstown and saw them obligingly placed in the windows. The hotel at Johnstown was similarly honored, as was the postoffice there and in their own town. And after that they tacked the notices wherever they thought they would attract attention without entailing a penalty. The final placard —no, not the final one, either, for Arnold kept that to go up in his room at school, but the next to the last one was tacked to the side of Hawkins’ leather store at the corner of the alley that led to the landing, and, lest some one might be in doubt as to the location of the town landing, Arnold added a hand, which pointed quite dramatically down the little lane. Long Tim put the sign in place that evening. Mr. Hawkins was very complaisant, perhaps thinking that some of the patrons of the ferry might be attracted to his stock, and gave ready permission to attach the sign to the alley side of the store so that it jutted out well over the sidewalk and was visible a block away. The boys were certain of that, because they hurried along the street to a position in front of the postoffice and looked! They spent most a quarter of an hour viewing Long Tim’s handiwork from various places at various angles, and would have stayed longer if it hadn’t got dark. The question of paying for the privilege of using the landing was still unsettled. It had been left to Mr. Tucker, who was himself one of the selectmen, and Mr. Tucker reported that the other members of the board were unable to reach any conclusion in the matter and proposed postponing a decision until the next town meeting, which
- 30. was scheduled for November. Meanwhile he advised Toby to go ahead as long as no one interfered with him, which Toby did. Mr. Tucker, rather to Toby’s surprise, approved of the ferry enterprise warmly. “Likely,” he said, “you won’t make a pile of money, Toby, but it’ll keep you out of mischief and give you something to do. And I’m not saying it won’t pay, either. I guess there’s folks that’ll be glad to run over to Johnstown that way instead of driving to the Port and taking the train. What you going to do with all your wealth, Toby, anyhow? Maybe you’d like to buy into the business, eh?” Toby hesitated a minute, but it seemed a very good opportunity to tell his father of his ambition to go to Yardley Hall School, and he did so. Mr. Tucker listened without comment until Toby had somewhat breathlessly finished. Then he did what was very characteristic. He pushed back an imaginary hat—the conversation took place in the cottage one evening just before bedtime—and scratched his head thoughtfully. At last: “That’s a pile of money, son, to spend for a year’s schooling. What are you going to get out of it that you can’t get over at Johnstown? Do they teach you more things at this school you’re telling of?” “N-no, sir, not more, exactly. Maybe they do, though, too. But it’s being at a place like that that’s the fun, Dad.” “Fun, eh? Sure it isn’t just the fun you’re thinking of? Three or four hundred dollars is a sight of money to spend for fun!” “I’m not thinking of only that, Dad. I—I guess I can’t explain very well, but it’s meeting other fellows and—and making friendships and learning how to—to look after myself that I’m thinking of.” “Seems to me you could do all that at high school, Toby. And high school won’t cost more’n a fifth as much, fares and all. It’s your money and I suppose you ought to have the spending of it, so long’s you don’t spend it plumb foolishly. But what occurs to me is that this Yardley Hall place is a mighty poor place for a boy who hasn’t plenty of money. Mostly rich boys, ain’t they; those that go to it?”
- 31. “No, sir, Arnold says there are lots of fellows who aren’t rich; fellows about like me, Dad.” “H’m, well, I don’t know. We’ll think it over. What you going to do next year for money? One year won’t do you much good, I guess.” “I don’t know. Only, somehow, I’ve got a hunch that if I can get through the first year I’ll manage the others, Dad.” Mr. Tucker shook his head. “I wouldn’t put too much faith on ‘hunches,’ as you call ’em, Toby. I’ll talk to Arnold about this school some day. If it’s going to give you something the high school can’t give you, son, and you’ve got the money to pay for it, why, I don’t know as I’m going to interfere none. But you’ll have to get your ma’s consent.” Toby agreed, feeling fairly certain that he could obtain that without much difficulty, although he knew that his mother would view his absence from home with alarm and sorrow. When Phebe was told of the plan she disappointed Toby by her lack of enthusiasm at first. “You mean that you’ll be away from home for months at a time?” she asked dolorously. “Won’t you be coming home ever, Toby?” “Maybe, but I guess I couldn’t afford to come home very often even if they’d let me. Of course, I’d be home at Christmas and—and Easter.” “Christmas is a long time from September. I suppose it’ll be perfectly dandy for you, Toby, but—but I’ll be awfully lonesome!” “You wouldn’t be after awhile. I guess I’d be, too, at first. But we don’t have to worry about that, because maybe there won’t anything come of it.” But Phebe refused to be consoled so easily. She assured him that she “just felt that he would go!” And Toby, although pretending to have no faith in her premonition, secretly hoped it would prove correct.
- 33. W CHAPTER XIII TRICK FOR TRICK ednesday didn’t promise very well at first for the baseball game, for the morning dawned dark and lowery, with a thick fog rolling in from the bay. But by noon the fog-horns had ceased bellowing, the mist had burned off and the sun was out again. The audience was flatteringly large when the game began at half-past three, the Head being represented by an impressive array of cars and carriages which, after climbing the hill by a stony and devious lane, parked along the edge of the field. Mr. Trainor was again on hand to umpire, and his brother and Mrs. Trainor sat on the grass back of first base under a vividly green sunshade and poked fun at him and “rooted” enthusiastically for the Towners. Toby’s team contained a new player in the person of “Chuck” Morgan, who took Harry Glass’s place at shortstop, Harry being confined at home with the mumps. The Spaniards, too, presented a stranger in their line- up, a large youth named Phillips, who held down third base. Toby and the other Towners viewed Phillips with misgiving and some indignation, for he must have been nineteen years old if he was a day. Toby sought Arnold and registered an objection vigorously. “We didn’t agree to play with grown-ups, Arn,” he said. “We haven’t a fellow over sixteen on our team.” Arnold was apologetic. “It’s Frank’s doing, Toby,” he explained. “Sam Cushing’s away and Frank said he knew of a fellow to take his place, and I told him to get him. I didn’t know he was so old. If I had I wouldn’t have let him on. But there isn’t any one else we can get now. Still, if you say you won’t play against him, all right. Maybe we can borrow a fellow from you.”
- 34. “He looks like a pretty good player,” murmured Toby, mollified, but still dubious. “Is he?” “I don’t know much about him. I’ll ask Frank.” Frank Lamson was summoned to the conference and the question put to him. “Phillips?” replied Frank, carelessly. “No, I guess he isn’t much at baseball. He played football at Townsend School last year, but I never heard he was much of a baseball shark. Anyway, we’re only playing for fun, Toby, so what does it matter?” “Well, he’s a heap older than us fellows,” Toby objected. “It doesn’t seem quite fair, that’s all.” “You’re afraid of getting licked,” laughed Frank. “Be a sport, Toby!” “If Toby doesn’t want us to play Phillips,” began Arnold. “We haven’t any one else, though,” said Frank impatiently. “We can’t play them with only eight men!” “All right,” said Toby. “Go ahead. Maybe it won’t make any difference.” But it did make a difference, as was soon apparent. For when Tracey Gay had reached first on Tony George’s poor peg to Billy Conners, and Arnold had sacrificed him neatly to second, Phillips stepped to the plate in a knowing way, swung at Tim Chrystal’s first offering, and slammed it into deep right for two bases, scoring Gay. One more tally was added before the Towners succeeded in disposing of the third Spaniard, and that two-run lead held until the fourth inning. Then Tony George, first man up for the home team, got a scratch hit past shortstop and Gus Whelan sent him to second on a bunt, being thrown out at first. The next two men went out, and it was up to “Snub” Mooney to rescue the runner on second. This Snub did by dropping a “Texas Leaguer” behind third, Tony George getting to third on the hit and racing home when the fielder unwisely threw to second to get Snub. Snub slid into the bag unchallenged, and Tony got to the plate before the ball from second baseman reached the catcher.
- 35. But the Spaniards came back in their inning and added two more tallies, making the score 4 to 1. In the fifth the Towners went down in one, two, three style, for Frank Lamson was pitching a much better game than a fortnight before and the whole team from the Head was playing together in very snappy form. There was some improvement in the Towners as well, but they displayed an unfortunate disposition to make errors at critical times. Tim Chrystal was slanting them over in good shape, but both Phillips and George Dodson found him for long hits every time they came up. The game held more excitement than had the first contest, and Mr. Trainor, very warm and perspiring, was forced to make a number of close decisions at bases. Whenever he did so loud hoots of derision came from under the green sunshade! Mr. Trainor’s office was no sinecure that hot afternoon! It was the seventh that saw things happen. Manuel Sousa waited and got his base. Morgan laid down a bunt half-way to the pitcher’s box, and Frank juggled the ball and both runners were safe. “Snub” Mooney went out, third baseman to first, advancing the runners. Tim Chrystal, who had so far failed to connect, smashed a line drive into short center. Sousa and Morgan tallied, but Tim was out in an attempt to reach second on the throw-in. With two gone, the inning looked about over, but Toby, next up, took advantage of Frank’s momentary let-down and pushed the ball down the third base line just out of reach of the accomplished Phillips, who had so far fielded his position like a veteran—which he probably was. After that, although Frank threw to first repeatedly in an effort to catch him, Toby stole second on the third delivery, beating the throw by inches only,—but beating it. Billy Conners fouled off two strikes, watched two balls go past him, fouled another for good measure, and then landed on a drop and raised it high and far into center field. Hal Mason had scarcely to move out of his tracks to take it, but somehow he let it get away from him after it had settled into his hands, and Toby, legging it like a jack rabbit, raced around third and slid the last ten feet to the plate in a cloud of yellow dust and scored without question. Then Tubby Knowles, desperate and determined,
- 36. tried his very best to bring Billy Conners in from second but only succeeded in popping a fly to shortstop. But the score had changed to 4 to 4, and the Towners had bright visions of another victory. Tim Chrystal began badly, though, by passing Frank Lamson. Then Mason singled to left and George Dodson sent a long fly to Tubby Knowles, which that rotund youth captured after a breath-taking sprint, almost to the foul line. Frank took third and Mason reached second. Tracey Gay rolled one toward third. Frank scored and Tracey was safe at first on a wide peg by Tony George. Tracey stole and a moment later Arnold worked Tim for a pass and filled the bases with but one down. Things looked bad then for the Towners, and no better when the renowned Phillips, after a conference between Toby and Tim, was purposely passed, forcing in another tally. Then, however, Pete Lord struck out and the Spaniard’s shortstop, after knocking two screeching fouls in among the carriages and automobiles and almost producing heart failure in the Towners, popped a weak fly to Billy Conners at first, and Toby drew a deep breath of relief. The Towners came back in the eighth with another tally, making the score 6 to 5, when Manuel Sousa, with one down and Gus Whelan on second, landed on one of Frank’s fast ones and drove it far out into right field. Tracey Gay got under it and made a spectacular catch, but his throw-in was short, and by the time Arnold had got it and relayed it to the plate Gus Whelan had tallied. Try as they might, however, the Towners could not even up the score, for Chuck Morgan, after beating out a slow bunt, was caught going down to second. The Spaniards went to bat with the evident intention of putting the game on ice there and then, for First Baseman Lord connected with the first ball Tim offered him and slammed it so hard at Chuck Morgan that Chuck had to drop it and hunt around before he could get his stinging hands on it once more. Then Frank tried to bunt
- 37. twice and failed, and, with two strikes and one ball on him, rolled one down to third. Tony George threw to second too late and both runners were safe. Then, however, Tim struck out Hal Mason and Dodson, and, swinging fearsomely, only succeeded in sending a foul to Tony George which that youth juggled but eventually saved. Tracy Gay got a safety past third, but Lord decided not to try for the plate, since Tubby Knowles had come in fast and had scooped up the ball before Lord was well around third. With the bases full, Arnold went to bat looking very determined. But there were two down and, as Tim refused to send him anything he could line out, he finally brought the inning to an end by flying out to center fielder. Snub Mooney, first up for the Towners in the ninth, drew a base on balls, but was out when Tim Chrystal hit to shortstop. Tim went on second when Toby placed a short fly behind first base that no one could reach. Then Billy Conners hit down the alley between shortstop and third, and suddenly the bases were full with only one out, and the Towners on the bench and their friends in the stand were shouting joyfully. Perhaps it was the noise and the vociferous coaching of the opponents that affected Frank Lamson’s command of the ball. At all events, after pitching two into the dirt and one over Tubby Knowles’s head, he worked a drop over for a strike and then plugged Tubby in the ribs. Tubby very promptly sat down on the plate and stared speechlessly, breathlessly, and accusingly at the pitcher until Tim trotted in from third and prodded him into activity with his toe. “Beat it, Tubby!” said Tim. “Go ahead down! You’ve tied the score!” Tubby, amidst laughter and wild acclaim, got to his feet groaning loudly and, a hand pressed anxiously to his side, limped to first. The Towners whooped joyously. The score was 6–6, the bases were still full, and there was but one out!
- 38. Frank Lamson and Catcher Dodson met and talked it over, and then Arnold walked in from second and they talked it over some more. And the enemy hooted and gibed and demanded action. Frank went back to the mound and Arnold to his position. On the bases the runners, encouraged by shrill shouts from the coachers, took long leads. Toby, at third, ran half-way to the plate on Frank’s first wind- up, with the result that the delivery was wild and Dodson only prevented a tally by blocking the ball with his body. Then Frank threw to third quickly and unexpectedly and Toby had a narrow escape. Once more Frank tried it, but this time Toby was watchful. Then Frank walked out of the box and signaled to Phillips, and the third baseman advanced some ten feet from base to meet him. Frank kept an eye on Toby while he and Phillips conferred, and although Snub Mooney raised a wonderful racket back of base and Toby threatened dashes to the plate, the latter had no chance to get home. Frank and Phillips whispered with heads very close and then Phillips returned to the bag, Frank walked back to the box, apparently rubbing the ball with his hands, and Toby danced along the path again. And then—well, then Phillips took the ball from under his arm, stepped after Toby and dug him none too gently in the ribs with it! And Mr. Trainor waved his hand and said, “Out at third!” in a rather disgusted tone of voice. And Toby, surprised, dismayed and, it must be confessed, decidedly peeved, dropped his head and joined Snub on the coaching line. “That’s a kid trick,” he said to Phillips, contemptuously. “Bush league stuff,” supplemented Snub. “Why don’t you play the game fairly?” The big third baseman grinned mockingly as he turned after throwing the ball back to Frank. “Keep your eyes open, fellows,” he replied. “You’re easy!” By that time the Towners had flocked across from the bench, protesting angrily. “Hiding the ball’s forbidden,” declared Gus Whelan. “How about that, Mr. Umpire?”
- 39. “He’s out,” replied Mr. Trainor, calmly. Gus and the others sputtered, but Toby sent them back. “There’s no rule against the hidden-ball trick,” he told them. “It was my fault. I ought to have seen it. It’s all right, though, fellows. We only want one run. Let’s have it. Hit it out, Tony!” But Tony swung helplessly under one of Frank’s fast ones and let the third delivery go by and heard it called a strike. “Gee, I wish he could hit it,” muttered Toby to Snub. “If we can only get Billy to third we can get him in. I’ll coach here. You beat it down to first, Snub, and take it there. Manuel’s up after Gus.” Frank tried the batter with a wide one that didn’t fool him, and it was two and two. “It only takes one, Tony!” called Toby. “Pick out a good one!” And Tony did that very thing the next instant when Frank tried to sneak one over in the groove. Tony met it not quite squarely, but he met it and the ball shot across the infield and for the first moment looked like a safe hit. But Arnold dashed to the right and, although he couldn’t make the catch, knocked the ball down. Billy Conners was turning third, but Toby seized him and shoved him back by main force, for Arnold had recovered the ball and finding that he was too late to get the runner at second or first, was pegging to the plate. “I could have made it!” gasped Billy, disappointedly. “You didn’t have a chance,” answered Toby. “Now listen. Hug your base until I shout ‘GO!’ and then don’t stop to look or anything. Just beat it! Understand?” “All right.” Billy got his foot on the base while Frank received the ball back from the catcher and glanced around the field. The bases were filled once more and at the plate Gus Whelan was tapping his bat eagerly. “Two gone, fellows!” called Arnold. “Play for the batter!”
- 40. Frank folded his fingers around the ball and settled for the wind- up. And at that instant Toby stepped across the base path and held up his hand. “Hi, Frank!” he called. “That ball’s ripped! We want another one!” Frank looked the ball over. “No, it isn’t. It’s perfectly all right.” “I tell you it is ripped! Let’s see it!” “Go on and play the game,” shouted Phillips. “I want to see that ball,” demanded Toby, advancing into the diamond. “It’s all right, I tell you,” replied Frank impatiently. “Get off the field, Toby.” “If it’s all right show it to me then.” Frank muttered, stepped out of the box and tossed the ball to Toby. “Have a look, then, and hurry up,” he growled. “Go!” yelled Toby. Instantly Billy Conners streaked for the plate, Toby stepped to one side and the ball went bounding across the base line. Pandemonium reigned. From second came Tubby, galloping for all he was worth, from first raced Tony. Phillips, after an instant of surprise, scurried after the ball. Billy swept across the plate. Toby waved Tubby on. Over near the fringe of the autos and traps Phillips was scooping up the ball. But by the time he had rescued it Tubby was rolling over and over in a cloud of dust across the plate and Tony was sliding, more scientifically but no less effectually, into third! The entire infield flocked about the umpire. Six voices shouted together. At first Toby smiled gently and winked at Tony George. And Tony, breathless but delighted, sat on the bag and winked back. “One trick,” murmured Toby pleasantly, “calls for another.” All the protests failed to aid the Spaniards and Mr. Trainor patiently explained that as time had not been asked for or called, the ball was
- 41. still in play. “Your pitcher,” he said, “threw the ball out of the field and the runners scored, as they had a perfect right to do.” “But Tucker called for the ball!” exclaimed Frank. “It was a trick! He hadn’t any right——” “There’s nothing in the rules forbidding that,” answered the umpire gently. “You didn’t have to throw it to him, you know.” “You call that fair playing?” demanded Phillips bitterly. “According to the rules of the game it’s fair,” was the response. “I can’t go back of the rules.” “It’s a low-down, measley trick!” declared Frank hotly. “Those runners ought to be sent back, Mr. Trainor.” “It was a trick, of course,” was the reply. “But so is hiding the ball, don’t you think? One isn’t any worse than the other and the rules don’t prohibit either, Lamson. Play ball, please.” But it was several minutes later before the Spaniards accepted the inevitable with bad grace and went back to their positions. As for Arnold, though, it is only fair to say that he made little protest, for he was possessed both of a sense of humor and a sense of justice. Phillips, however, scowled darkly at Toby and Tony as he returned to his base. “Cheating,” he said grumpily, “is the only way you fellows could win.” “Keep your eyes open,” replied Toby sweetly. Then the game went on. But the Spaniards had lost their grip, and Frank Lamson, too angry to care much what happened, passed Gus Whelan and allowed Manuel Sousa to land against a straight ball and send it speeding over shortstop’s head. Tony trotted home unhurriedly and Gus took second. Chuck Morgan brought the inning to an end by fouling out to the catcher. After that, with the score 9 to 6, the Towners had only to hold their opponents for the last of the ninth, and, although Tim Chrystal
- 42. threatened to make trouble for himself by passing the first man up, he soon settled down again, and by the time the runner had stolen second and reached third on a put-out at first there were two down, and Frank Lamson ended the contest by ignominiously striking out. The Spaniards’ cheer for the victors was noticeably faint.
- 43. T CHAPTER XIV TOBY IS DOWNHEARTED he next morning the Johnstown ferry began operations, at least theoretically. As a matter of fact, no one had appeared by nine o’clock, and, after pondering the matter, the boys decided to omit the first trip, arguing that if there were no passengers at this end there’d be none at the other, or, if there were, it wouldn’t hurt them to wait until 11.30! Toby was disappointed and showed it. He hadn’t expected that the capacity of the Urnove would be taxed on its maiden voyage as a ferryboat, but he had looked forward to having at least one passenger. Sitting idly there in the hot sun on the hard seats of the little gray launch made one feel decidedly flat! Arnold, though, was not in the least downcast. He had more perfectly plausible reasons for the lack of patronage than Toby, in an unnaturally pessimistic frame of mind, could counter. “You wait until eleven,” said Arnold cheerfully. “Bet you we’ll have three or four then!” When it was evident that there was to be no excuse for making the nine o’clock trip they went up the gangplank and found seats in the shade of a shed at the end of the wharf, and presently Toby forgot his disappointment. They talked of yesterday’s ball game and Arnold, who had gone off the field a little bit peeved, today laughed at his grouch. “You surely turned the trick on us, Toby! Frank was as mad as—as——” “As mustard,” interjected Toby helpfully. Arnold accepted the simile doubtfully. “Well, he was some peeved, anyhow. He says you didn’t play fair, but I told him——” “I didn’t,” responded Toby.
- 44. “Well, no more did we.” “That wasn’t any reason for my pulling that raw trick, though. The trouble was that I got mad at being caught off third like that, and wanted to get square.” “Well, I don’t blame you. That hide-the-ball business was got up by Frank and Phillips. I didn’t know anything about it until they pulled it. I don’t like that sort of piffle. Toby, I say if you’re going to play ball, why, play ball!” “Yes, we both—both teams, I mean—played baby. I wished afterward I hadn’t done it. Even when you win like that you don’t really feel right about it. Anyway, I don’t.” “Shucks, what’s the odds! I’ll own I was sort of sore yesterday, but now I’m glad you did it. It was only what we deserved. Besides, it’s made Frank so grouchy he can’t see straight. He’s going to keep the team going and try to get you fellows to play again. He called me a quitter and got quite nasty about it.” “If he keeps at it long enough,” observed Toby dryly, “he’s bound to beat us. What time is it?” “Twenty-five to ten,” answered Arnold. “We don’t have to sit here, so let’s go over and see how the boat’s getting on. Say, I wish we could think of a name for her.” “All names I like you don’t,” said Toby as they ascended the lane to Harbor Street. “Why don’t you do the way we did with the Turnover? Knock off the first and last letters, I mean.” Arnold stared blankly. “Knock off—— But we haven’t got any letters yet, you idiot!” “That’s so,” replied Toby demurely. “Let’s go to the postoffice.” Arnold swung about obediently before he thought to ask, “What for?” “To get some letters,” said Toby.
- 45. Arnold tried to reach him with the toe of one water-stained white buckskin shoe, but was foiled by Toby’s agility, and they went on again. “There was a yawl I knew once called Saucy Sal,” observed Arnold presently. “How well did you know her?” asked Toby. “You’re too bright for anything today!” said the other, in a grieved tone. “If you’re so smart why don’t you think of a name for me?” “I didn’t know you wanted one. I can think of several,” said Toby significantly, “but you mightn’t like them.” “I mean for the boat, you chump! It’ll be ready to launch before we know it, and you just can’t launch a boat without a name!” “All right, Arn, I’ll put my giant intellect at work tonight. I always think better after I’m in bed, don’t you?” “No, I don’t. When I get to bed I go to sleep.” “So do I after a while, but I always think things over first.” “Now don’t forget that we ought to be back at the landing at a quarter to eleven. The trouble with you is that when you get in there looking at that knockabout you forget everything.” “There’s one thing I don’t forget,” chuckled Arnold, “and that’s dinner!” They were back on the float at a little past the half-hour and Toby seized a rag and performed a lot of quite unnecessary polishing during the ensuing wait. Perhaps it relieved his nervousness. At a quarter to eleven Chuck Morgan and Snub Mooney descended the gangplank. Chuck had thirty-five cents and Snub twenty-two, and they tried to engineer a deal whereby they were to be taken across to Johnstown and back for fifty-seven cents in cash and a promise of eighteen cents more at some future date. Snub said he thought Toby ought to make a special rate to his friends. “I will,” said Toby. “I’ll take one of you over and back for fifty- seven or I’ll take you both one way for it. Which do you choose?”
- 46. “Oh, go on, Toby! Have a heart! Honest, we’ll pay you the other eighteen, won’t we, Chuck? I’ll give it to you tomorrow, or maybe next day.” “This is business, Snub,” answered Toby emphatically. “If you fellows want to make the trip over and back I’ll take you this once for nothing. But the next time you’ll have to pay full fare, friends or no friends.” “All right,” agreed Snub cheerfully. “I guess we won’t ever want to go again! Anybody else coming?” Toby looked at the town clock and shook his head, trying not to appear disappointed. “I guess not this trip,” he replied. “Better wait five minutes more,” said Arnold, “in case some one’s late, you know.” But Toby shook his head resolutely. “They’ve got to be on time if they’re coming with me. This ferry sails right on the hour. Cast off that line, Arn, will you?” And so, after all, the Urnove made its first trip, if not without passengers, at least without profit. But when she was out of the harbor, with the waves slapping at her bow and the fresh breeze ruffling damp hair, both boys forgot to be downcast and they had a very merry sail across the smiling blue water. They tied up at the little spindly pier at Johnstown promptly at eleven-twenty and waited. Now and then, ostensibly to get the cooler breeze above, Toby climbed to the pier. The approach to it was in sight for a couple of hundred yards and always, before returning to the float, Toby’s gaze wandered anxiously and longingly up the road. But eleven- thirty came without a passenger and the Urnove cast off again and began her homeward voyage. By that time Toby was frankly despondent, and he had little to say on the way back. It was becoming painfully evident that the Johnstown ferry was not to be a financial success! But when he got home for dinner—Arnold had resisted the temptation to accept Toby’s invitation and had chugged back to the
- 47. Head in the Frolic—the gloom was slightly illumined by a letter which Phebe put in his hand. Toby had almost forgotten Mr. Whitney, but the letter corrected that, for it announced that the contractor would be at the landing the next morning at eight to be carried over to Johnstown. Toby’s face brightened. Mr. Whitney would pay three dollars! Then he recalled the fact that he had decided that Mr. Whitney was to pay the same as others, and his countenance fell again. Still, if the contractor arrived at eight it would mean a special trip, and a special trip was a different matter! He determined to lay the question before Arnold after dinner, being, of course, quite certain of Arnold’s decision! But that letter cheered him up and he had no difficulty in eating a very satisfactory meal, and felt a whole lot better after it. Phebe made the trip across with them at two, and again at four, and if it hadn’t been that Toby was horribly disappointed over the absence of patronage they’d have had a pretty good time. Even as it was they enjoyed it. Between trips they sat, the three of them, in a shady and breezy corner of the boat yard, from where, by craning their necks a bit, they could see the town landing, and tried to decide on a name for the knockabout. They canvassed every name they had ever heard of or could think of, but none seemed to please Arnold. Toby at last told him he was too hard to suit. “There aren’t any more names, I guess,” he said. “Not unless you get a city directory and go through it. I think Slap-Dash is the best. Don’t you, Phebe?” “I like Foam better. It’s prettier.” “Girls,” said Toby sententiously, “always want something pretty. Gee, I’ll bet there are eighty-eleven million boats called Foam!” “That doesn’t matter, does it?” asked Phebe. “I suppose there are lots of boats called Slap-Dash, too.” “Not near so many. Besides——” “I don’t like either of those names much,” said Arnold apologetically. There was a discouraged silence then until Phebe
- 48. observed: “I don’t see why you don’t call it the Arnold. Arnold’s a pretty name——” “Wow!” jeered Toby. “There’s one for you, Arn. A pretty name for a pretty boy, eh?” Arnold threw a chip at him. “A fellow wouldn’t want to name a boat after himself,” he demurred. “There was a man around here a couple of years ago,” said Toby, “who had a sloop he called the A. L. We used to say it stood for always last, but it was really just his initials. You might call yours the A. D.” Arnold considered. “A. D.,” he murmured. “Say, that isn’t so bad, is it? It—it’s sort of short and—and neat, eh?” “Yes, and you could call it Anno Domini for long,” laughed Toby. Arnold’s face clouded. “Yes, I suppose fellows would get up all sorts of silly meanings for it. If it wasn’t for that——” Phebe clapped her hands. “I’ve got it!” she cried. “Call it the Aydee!” “That’s what we said,” began Toby. “No, not the letters, Toby,” explained Phebe. “‘A-y-d-e-e,’ Aydee! I think that would be lovely!” “That’s not so worse,” commented Arnold, reaching for a chip and his pencil. “Let’s see what it would look like.” He printed it in capital letters, viewed it, and passed it around. “I think it’s clever, Toby. Folks wouldn’t know it stood for anything, would they? It sounds like —like a name out of the ‘Arabian Nights,’ or—or something.” “Aydee it is, then,” declared Toby. “Funny, but I was just going to suggest that myself!” “Yes, you were!” Arnold jeered. “Like fun! That’s Phebe’s name, and Phebe will have to christen her! We’ll have a regular christening
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