At last the cook came out and hollered, “Grub-pile!” which meant it was suppertime. Ole and Jerry came on the run, and Mark and I didn’t wait for a written invitation. It’s lucky they had lots to eat on board, or somebody would have come out at the little end of the horn. I ate and ate, and Mark ate and ate and ate. He was still going it when the rest were through.
The cook shook his head. “Wouldn’t board you permanent, young feller, for twice my wages,” says he. “Is this the first time you’ve et this year?”
Mark just grinned. He was full now, and that made him feel good. He never cared much, anyhow, when folks made fun of his appetite.
We settled back in our chairs; and I was just getting ready to ask more about the way to Ludington when somebody hollered outside. I knew that voice in a minnit. It was Jiggins.
CHAPTER XVII
For a minnit I was scared, and even Mark Tidd looked kind of blue around the gills, as dad says. But then I thought Ole and Jerry and Mr. Hogtoter wouldn’t let Collins and Jiggins take us off the scow, so I quit being frightened.
Ole got up and poked his head out of the door.
“Hello!” says Jiggins again. “Seen a couple of boys in a canoe?”
Ole turned around to us and grinned, then he called to Jiggins, “Ay tank so.”
“How long ago?”