‘Yes, she said so,’ answered Pud, laughing with deep irony, ‘but she says a lot of things. She says she’s going to be a movie actress!’ ‘I think you’re too――too disgusting for words!’ exclaimed the girl. ‘I _am_ going to be a moving-picture actress! Why, sakes alive, everybody knows that!’ ‘I’ll bet the moving pictures don’t know it,’ laughed Pud. ‘And as for that reward, any one can have my share for a nickel!’ ‘Well, I don’t know,’ objected Tim. Gladys Ermintrude was plainly too wounded for speech. ‘I don’t see why her folks wouldn’t give something for her safe return to――to――for her safe return. It generally _is_ done, Pud.’ ‘Yes, in stories and movies!’ ‘Well, but, wait now! There was a piece in the paper just last winter where a boy was kidnaped and his father offered a lot of money for him; I think it was five thousand dollars!’ ‘Of course there was!’ declared the girl triumphantly. ‘All right,’ said Pud cheerfully. ‘You go on believing it. To-morrow you’ll see whether I’m right or wrong. Because to-morrow morning Gladys Evinrude’s going to be handed over to her ma just as soon as we can get her there. And now I’m going to bed. You and I’ll sleep in the boat, Tim, and she can have the tent. Harmon, you bed down here by the fire. And don’t you go and raise a rumpus on account of any skunk or anything else, because if you do I’ll sure tan your hide!’ Later, on the edge of sleep, Pud remembered that he had not written his letter home. CHAPTER XI GLADYS ERMINTRUDE IS RESTORED Corbin came into sight at a little before nine o’clock the next morning, a quiet, rambling town of little homes and shaded streets commanded by a tall red water-tower. The railway touched Corbin on its way to the coast, and, as the launch drew near the line of small wharves and landings, there came the shrill screech of a locomotive bustling in from the north. Just below the town they passed a small settlement of shanty-boats, many of them hauled high and dry above the river, others moored to the bank with a plank or two bridging the gulf between. Harmon looked long and interestedly and finally confided to Tim that some day he was ‘goin’ to have him one of them there shunty-bo’ts.’ No one had slept very well the night before; no one, at least, save Gladys Ermintrude, who declared that she had ‘slumbered divinely.’ Pud and Tim, who had lain on a combination of one cot and the top of a locker in the launch, had certainly found nothing divine about their slumbers, and the fact had left them both a trifle tired and morose this fine morning. The sight of Corbin had produced in Pud the first pleasant sensation of the day, and as the launch chugged leisurely up to a slanting float, beyond which the sign ‘GasOLine, OiL & WaTer’ flaunted from the side of an old shed, the sensation grew. Here they were to see the last of Gladys Ermintrude!