"It's yours, I guess, Mr. Barton."
"Mine!" exclaimed the surprised drug clerk. "You saw it first."
"Yes, but I heard it fall just after I ran into you. I must of knocked
it out of your pocket. I didn't have no half-dollar."
"No more did I," replied Mr. Barton.
"You didn't!" exclaimed Jerry, and joy came unbidden back into his eyes
and there was a very different feel to his lips. He knew that it was a
real smile this time.
"Not this late in the week," Mr. Barton informed him. "It's too long
after pay day for me to have that much money. I've got just thirty-five
cents."
He drew some small coins out of his pocket.
"Yes, it's all here. The half-dollar must have been lying on one of the
boards that you struck in falling. Let's see it."
He took the money and examined it.
"It was almost covered with dirt," he said. "So was one end of both
boards. Hello! That's a funny black mark on the other side. Looks as
though somebody had smeared it with black paint."
"That doesn't hurt it any, does it?" asked Jerry in trepidation.
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