But instead of a coin, he found only a resolute boy awaiting him, tossing and catching a silver piece. It was one of those Mr. Wicker had given Chris but an hour before. He looked Simon Gosler in the eye. "I've heard what went on, Simon Gosler," said Chris, his eyes on a level with the rheumy watering eyes of the cripple, "and if you will sell your spyglass to me, I'll buy it off you with this silver piece. Otherwise you shall not have it." Simon Gosler's eyes dripped tears of greed at the sight of the coin, and then another expression washed over them. Fast as he was and fast as was his movement, Chris was faster. As the old beggar braced himself and brought the head of his crutch down where Chris's head should have been, someone from behind dealt him a staggering blow with a sizable club, and yet when he turned around no one was there. When he faced about again, rubbing his head and whimpering with rage and frustration, he found himself once more facing the boy who was tossing and catching, tossing and catching, the round silver coin. Chris stood with his legs apart, his head back, his eyes full of scorn. His hand did not cease to toss and catch the silver piece. "Well, you old villain," he challenged, "will you take the coin in fair exchange, or shall I hit you again with that club you just felt?" he asked. "It doesn't feel the same when you get it back as when you give it out, does it, you old faker? Hurry up--your friends will soon be coming back, and I don't think they intend to argue," he added. [Illustration] Gosler, still rubbing his head and muttering, finally spoke. "Very well, you nasty young man, I'll sell my glass. Give me the coin!" and he stretched out a dirty claw. "Oh no!" Chris shook his head decisively. "No indeed! You put the glass down between us--carefully, mind you--and back away. I'll throw you the coin when I've seen if the glass is worth the silver!" Mumbling to himself, Simon Gosler did as he was told. He reached back in his coat pocket to draw out a small spyglass, which he laid down on the ground. He then backed away. Chris picked up and examined the glass, tested it, and then just as the two gamblers came back up the riverbank, tossed the silver piece to the beggar. Gosler caught it in mid-air with the dexterity of years of practice. In an instant Chris had vanished into the thick shade of the wood, and going as fast but as quietly as he could, regained the place where Amos waited for him. [Illustration] "Gee, Chris!" Amos exclaimed, for he had caught all Chris's expression of speech, "We got us a spyglass!" "We sure have!" Chris agreed, "And it's a fine one--best I ever saw," he said. "Here, try it out over the river there, where that ship is anchored."