“Before we give you an answer I would suggest that you move your boat over to our island, just beyond the bend. We have a darky there who has supper waiting for us, and we are both hungry. Besides, we have a fire burning there, and it is getting dark. I think it will be pleasanter for all hands,” observed Leo.
“A good idee,” said Haypole. “Here, boys, is ther Medford rum I spoke about; have some?”
His offer was declined, greatly to his astonishment.
“Great haystacks!” he exclaimed, swallowing a big mouthful of the liquor; “this stuff won’t hurt ye any more’n apple cider.”
The longer Leo and Dick remained in the company of the two men, the better they liked them.
There was something about Prof. Easy that was bound to make him friends wherever he went, and Martin Haypole—well, he was one of those comical, unsophisticated people whom almost everybody likes.
Dick grasped a pole and assisted to shove the boat out into the stream, and thence to the little island, where Lucky, the darky, was anxiously awaiting the return of the two boys.
When he saw the sailboat approaching through the gathering darkness, he uttered a cry of alarm and hastily seized his rifle, which stood against a tree.
“Hold on, Lucky! it is all right,” shouted Leo.
“Fo’ de Lor’ sakes! Whar did youse done git de boat, Massa Leo?” asked the darky.