“If Mr. Carnet pays up I won’t keep him waiting.” I replied. “I suppose he’s entitled to his money.”
“If I was in your place I’d make him wait. I wouldn’t take any such talk without making him suffer for it. Do you want to load these bags on the boat now?”
“Yes; sixteen of them.”
Getting out the wheelbarrow, the young fellow piled it high with the bags of middlings, and carted them down to the sloop that was tied to the wharf that jutted out into the lake. It was only a short distance, and the job was soon finished.
“Now I’m off,” I said, as I prepared to leave. “You know what to do if anything comes in while I’m gone.”
“Oh, yes.”
“And in the meanwhile you can get that flour ready for Jerry Moore.”
“I will.”
I jumped aboard the sloop, unfastened the painter, hoisted the mainsail, and stood out for the other shore. A stiff breeze was blowing, and I was soon well underway.