“I—I jest been restin’, Mr. Gif. Jest been restin’ a minute waitin’ for you young gen’lemen to get back,” answered the colored man lamely.
“Just been resting for a minute!” stormed Gif. “You were sleeping as soundly as a rock and snoring to beat the band.”
“And you let the supper burn up!” put in Jack.
“All those fine fish we caught, worthless!” added Spouter.
“Burnt up! Who says they’re burnt up?” cried the colored man, walking out of the brook and stamping the mud from his feet. “I didn’t burn nothin’.”
“Yes, you did. Everything is burnt,” answered Gif. “Just go and see for yourself. What are we going to do for dinner?”
Jeff started toward the back of the bungalow and then saw the pan of burnt fish and the other pan of burnt potatoes, both resting on the ground near the doorway. His face fell, but then, of a sudden, he turned around savagely.
“I don’t care! I didn’t mean to burn that supper up! You was so long comin’ I jest thought I’d rest a minute. You didn’t have no call to flop me into the water.”
“You’re lazy and good-for-nothing, Jeff,” answered Gif sternly. “The best thing you can do is to get out of this camp. I’d rather do the work myself than have you around.”