“Each of us chips in twenty-five dollars, Pipe,” Skeeter explained.
“Dat’s a fine way to do,” Pipe grinned. “Is you elected who is de head boss leader yit?”
“Naw,” Skeeter said. “We ain’t got dat fur.”
“Ef you ’vide up yo’ jobs an’ decide who is gwine be who, I’ll learn you how to run de boat an’ esplain each man’s job to him,” Pipe proposed. “Atter dat, I’ll step off.”
“I announces myse’f de captain of dis boat!” Skeeter Butts yelled. “Any objections?”
“I’s de commondore,” Hitch Diamond bellowed.
“I’s de skipper,” Figger Bush quacked.
“My job is cut out for me,” Vinegar Atts grinned. “I’s de fust high exalted chaplain.”
“Whut do de chaplain do?” Skeeter Butts wanted to know.
“He sets down an’ sings religium toons ontil somebody dies,” Vinegar informed him. “Den he gibs de dead man religium advices, ties a lump of coal to his foots, an’ draps him in de ribber.”