“Oh, Jeff, you’re full of tacks!” answered Jack. “Go on back into the kitchen and look for yourself.”
“A little snake like that couldn’t harm anybody,” came from Andy. “Why, a hundred of ’em wouldn’t be any worse than a bunch of mosquitoes!”
Jeff looked rather sheepish. He examined his hand and his wrist, and then moved rather slowly toward the kitchen.
“I never did like no snakes,” he said. “I had a cousin once down South got bit by a moccasin and he didn’t live no time at all. When snakes is dangerous they’s dangerous, and I don’t want none of ’em around me.”
“If you’re afraid to go into the kitchen and get us something to eat, I’ll go in there myself,” said Gif sharply.
“Oh, I’s goin’! I’s goin’!” answered the colored man hastily. “We’ll have supper in a few minutes. Ain’t much to cook, as I done told you before.” Then he resumed his preparations for the repast.
Even when it was ready the supper did not amount to a great deal. However, the boys managed to make it do, and, thoroughly tired out, were glad enough to go to bed early.
As Gif had told them, the bungalow was a low, rambling affair. On each side of the big living room were three bedrooms and there were more bedrooms in the rear. Behind the bungalow was a long, low shed which, Gif explained, had occasionally been used for “the overflow” of visitors to the fishing club resort.
The boys decided that they would bunk together, two in a room, thus occupying two rooms on one side of the big living apartment and one room on the other. Jeff was to use a small room directly off of the kitchen.
“I’s goin’ to make sure there ain’t no snakes in my bed,” he announced when getting ready to retire.