“A boat?”
“Yes.”
“Where did you get her?” asked Dave, leaning over the wheel.
“She came up with the tide one mornin’ lately—about a week ago.”
“What is she—a flat-bottom?” queried the other boy, leaning over still further.
“No, she’s a keel boat—a spanker.”
“Je-rusalem,” gasped Dave. “I wonder where she came from?”
“I reckon,” replied Tom, in a portentious whisper, “that she came off a wreck. She’s a ship’s boat.”
“Where is she, Tom?” demanded Dave. “Kin I have a look at her?”
“I’ve got her planted,” said Tom, swelling with importance.