“Dat’s jess right,” added Pickles. “Let dem walk ebery step ub de way.”
He and the others sprang on board of the iceboat and began to hoist the mainsail. They had hardly done so when Sully rushed up and tried to hit Jack in the head with his fist.
Pickles sprang forward and pushed the bully’s arm aside. Then he let out with his own fist, and down went Sully flat on his back, while the Icicle sailed off, leaving Dixon and Spencer staring at the fate of their leader in dumb amazement.
“That’s the time you did it, Pickles!” cried Boxy, approvingly. “My! just look how mad Sully is!”
They looked back and saw that the bully had arisen to his feet and was shaking his fist at them in rage. A moment later they swept around Thompson’s Bend, and the trio of defeated ones was lost to view.
“I owe you one for your aid, Pickles,” said Jack, with a kindly look at the colored boy, who grinned with pleasure. “I sha’n’t forget you.”
Pickles cleared his throat several times and looked down at the ice for a moment in silence. The boys saw at once that something was on his mind.
“Say, why can’t yo’ fellahs take me along!” he burst out suddenly. “Ebery fust-class camp hab got to hab a cook an’ general util’ty man around, pap sez, an’ he sez I kin go along if youse will hab me. I don’t want no pay fo’ gwine along, an’ I’ll do wot I kin to help fill up de larder. I ain’t much wid a gun, but I kin trap t’ings, and yo’ all knows wot I kin do fishin’ an’ spearin’. It an’t fo’ de likes of yo’ to wash de dishes and sech, an’—an’, to tell de truf, I wants to go powerful bad!”
And Pickles’ big, round eyes told very plainly that he spoke the truth. He had had that suggestion on his mind a long while, but he had hesitated to speak for fear of being refused.
The boys looked at each other. They had not thought to include any one but themselves in the proposed outing. But it would be a shame to disappoint Pickles, who had always stood by them and done them more than one favor.