“Going ashore,” says Catty. Then he turned to the young man. “Say,” says he, “can you beach this boat?”
“I can,” says he, “but the real question is, will I? The answer is I will.”
So he headed in, and then jerked up the center board and brought her about. “You’ll have to wade a piece,” says he.
“All right,” says Catty. “You stand off and on till I whistle three times. Then run in to pick us up.”
I kind of admired his language. That “stand off and on” sounded pretty fair to me. Right off I knew he got it out of a book somewheres. He was getting awful nautical.
He took off his shoes and stockings and I did the same, and we stepped off on a sandy bottom and waded ashore.
“What kind of dum foolishness is this?” says I.
“Jest looking for turtles’ eggs,” says he. “A feller told me the time to find ’em was by moonlight.”
“I don’t need any turtles’ eggs,” says I.
“Not many folks does,” says he, “but I do. I want to send a box of them home to Dad. He’s that fond of turtles’ eggs you wouldn’t believe it.”