“Dat’s right! Gib us a good name, Pipe!”
Pipe scratched his woolly head and thought. Then he said:
“Is you niggers made acquaintance wid a coot?”
“Suttinly.”
“Is you ever seed how a coot starts to fly? He leans fur back like he was restin’ on his tail den he takes a runnin’ shoot——”
“Shore! We knows!” the men interrupted.
“Dis boat gits its start by shovin’ wid its tail,” Pipe resumed. “Furthermo’, dis boat, like a coot, is a lan’ an’ water bird. Accawdin’ to dat notion, I votes dat we call dis boat after de nigger word fer a coot——”
“De Mud Hen!” the quartet whooped triumphantly. “De Mud Hen!”
From that moment our four friends were consumed with desire to own the boat which had received such a high-sounding and appropriate name.
Skeeter presided at a lengthy consultation, then came forward to the pilot-wheel and counted one hundred dollars into Pipe Smash’s greedy palm.