‘Sure ’tis, sure ’tis! Just wanted to tell you that whatever money those fellows paid you ain’t worth a cent.’ ‘What you mean?’ demanded Tally in alarm. ‘Counterfeit.’ ‘What! Counterfeit? Sheriff, you mean that?’ ‘Well, I mean they were printing the stuff up on Cypress Creek. ’Course they might have paid you in good money, but it don’t seem likely. Haven’t got it handy, have you?’ There was a moment’s hesitation on the part of Tally. Then he turned and ran toward the cabin. He didn’t go inside, though, but disappeared around the farther corner. He was gone several minutes. ‘Got to dig it up, likely,’ said the sheriff. ‘’Twas his power-boat they got, all right, Kinsey. Don’t reckon he was in with ’em, though.’ The Secret Service agent shook his head. ‘Too stupid, I guess,’ he agreed. Tally came back, panic in his colorless face. ‘Here’s what they gave me, Sheriff,’ he said hoarsely. ‘Ain’t that good money?’ He yielded the bills to the other. There were eighteen of them. The sheriff sorted them into two lots; two hundred dollars of crisp, new paper and thirty-five dollars in old, creased bills. The new notes he passed on to Mr. Kinsey. ‘I reckon this thirty-five is all right,’ said the sheriff, ‘but that new stuff――’ He looked questioningly at the Secret Service man. The latter was already folding the bills and putting them into his pocket. ‘Counterfeit,’ he said briefly. ‘You give ’em back here!’ cried Tally. ‘Good or bad, stranger, it’s my money!’ ‘You hold your horses, Moore,’ said the sheriff. ‘Phoney money belongs to just one person, and that’s Uncle Sam. This here’s Mr. Kinsey, of the United States Secret Service.’ Tally stared open-mouthed. Then he swallowed hard. ‘You mean I don’t get nothin’?’ he faltered. ‘I wouldn’t wonder a mite if you got your boat back,’ answered the sheriff. ‘The skunks!’ broke out Tally angrily. He found worse names then, and mingled ugly oaths with his excited ravings until the sheriff silenced him. ‘Moore,’ he said, ‘if you want we should get your power-boat back for you, you’d better tell us the truth about the business. Here’s your thirty-five. How comes it they paid you that much in real money?’ ‘That was first off,’ answered Tally hurriedly in his hoarse tones. ‘That was for the skiff. I sold it to ’em, good an’ all. They was two of ’em come along about three weeks past. Strangers they was. Wanted a boat for fishin’ an’ offered me thirty for mine. I told ’em thirty-five an’ they paid it. I didn’t see ’em again till last night. Then one of ’em, the tall feller, comes here ’bout ten o’clock an’ gets me out o’ bed. Wants to buy the power-boat an’ we haggles awhile an’ he finally pays me two hundred dollars, the――the――’ ‘Never mind that,’ soothed the sheriff. ‘Two hundred was quite a price, I reckon, Moore. Must have wanted it bad, I’d say. Then what?’ ‘I come down here an’ unlocked that padlock yonder and started it for him and he went off, the dirty――’