Ruth and Helen stayed back. They did not wish to thrust themselves on the notice of Curly Smith. Nettie told Jimson to see that the saturated boy had a new outfit.
“And don’t let him get away till Aunt Rachel returns from Charleston and sees him. She’ll want to do something for him, I know,” she added.
The boy glanced shyly up at the girls and suddenly caught sight of Ruth and Helen in the background. Like a shot he wheeled and ran into the bushes.
“Oh! catch him!” gasped Ruth. “Don’t let him run away, Mr. Jimson.”
“He’s streakin’ it for my shack, I reckon,” said the boss. “Mis Jimson’ll find him some old duds of mine to put on.”
“But maybe he won’t come back,” said Helen, likewise anxious.
“Ya-as he will. I ain’t paid him fo’ his wo’k here,” chuckled Jimson. “He’ll stay a while longah. Don’t fret about that.”
Nettie got back into the carriage, which went on toward the bridge. As they crossed the long span the girls saw that the current was roaring between the piers and that much rubbish was held upstream by the bridge. The bridge shook under the blows of the logs and other debris which charged against it.
“My! this is dangerous!” cried Helen. “Suppose the bridge should give way?”
“Then we would not get home very easily,” laughed Nettie.