"Phil, your father seems to be a good deal worried this morning. I hope it isn't on account of the way we cut up on this ship last evening." "Not at all, Dave," returned Phil Lawrence. "I don't believe he noticed our monkey-shines. He is worried over the letter he received in the mail we got at our last stopping-place." "No bad news I hope?" said Roger Morr, another one of the group of boys seated on the forward deck of a small coastwise steamer. "Well, I think it is rather bad news," answered the son of the vessel's owner. "Poor dad stands to lose between twenty and thirty thousand dollars." "Twenty or thirty thousand dollars " exclaimed Dave Porter. "Why, how can that be, Phil?" "Did he make a bad investment?" asked Ben Basswood, another youth of the group. "You can hardly call it a bad investment, Ben," returned Phil. "Buying the land was all right enough in the first place. It's trying to get rid of it that's the sticker." "You are talking in riddles, Phil," said Roger Morr. "Won't you explain?" "Maybe Phil doesn't care to explain," broke in Dave Porter, quickly. "It may be his father's private business, you know." "Oh, I don't think he'll object to my telling you the details," responded the shipowner's son. "It isn't very much of a secret where we live, or in East Haven." "East Haven? Is that the place across the river from where you live?" queried Dave Porter.