“We hain’t in the dark now,” says Mark, like he meant more than he said.
“Meanin’, I s’pose, that you’ve found that Piggins feller? I hain’t clear what you want with him, nor why you’re mixin’ into private business, though I was warned to look out for a fat kid that stuttered.”
“Um!” says Mark.
“I’m comin’ ashore,” says the man.
“I hain’t sure you be,” says Mark.
“Jest watch,” says the man, and he began to row again.
I waited till he got close enough to reach with the pole and then I give him a good shove that made his rickety boat rock like the mischief. He turned sort of green and let out a bellow like a calf that seen some kind of a beef ghost.
“Hey! quit that! Want to drownd a feller?” he yelled.
“F-f-figgered on givin’ you a little swim,” says Mark.
“Gosh! boy, I can’t swim a stroke! Go easy there!”