“Well, Jeff certainly knows how to fry fish,” remarked Jack, after he had eaten his supper. “I never ate fish that tasted better.”
“That’s the one thing that Jeff can do,” answered Gif. “Otherwise, I think he’s about as lazy and worthless as any nigger I ever met. Privately, I wish we could get rid of him.”
“You’d better pile more work on him, Gif. Maybe then he’d get tired of the job and make an excuse for going home,” suggested Spouter.
“I’m certainly going to do something unless he wakes up,” answered the other.
On Monday, following a quiet Sunday in camp, all the boys rowed up to Rocky Run to purchase some additional supplies from Mose Mumbleton. The old storekeeper was glad to see them and had some news to impart.
“Three more young fellows came for that other camp yesterday,” he said. “A fellow named Smith, another named Mason and a third chap with a big wide mouth, named Stowell.”
“That was Codfish!” exclaimed Andy. “They said he was coming up here.”
“Did they buy anything from you, Mr. Mumbleton?” questioned Jack.
“Oh, yes; a few things. But most of those fellows are terribly sharp at driving a bargain. I guess they haven’t got any too much spending money with them. Another thing! Mr. Flanders was up here. He has a boy over to the camp. He’s the man, you know, who bought that factory up on Flat Rock Creek.”
“Is he staying up at the camp?” asked Andy.