“An’ I kin take my banjo and mouf harmonica along,” went on the colored youth. “Da will come in mighty handy-like to help kill de long evenings.”
“That’s so,” said Boxy. “And you can give me those lessons you promised me.”
“And you can show me how to build those traps you spoke about,” added Harry.
“Yes, I want to learn how to trap, too,” put in Andy.
“I guess you can go, Pickles,” finished up Jack, and it was settled that the colored youth should become one of the party.
Pickles was so delighted that he could hardly contain himself. As soon as Rudskill was reached he ran off to tell his folks and prepare for the trip. He was gone but a short half-hour, and came back with a spear on his shoulder and an old army knapsack strapped on his back.
The sled was brought out and tied on behind the Icicle, and then, without further delay, the long-talked-of tour was begun.
“We have lost about two hours,” said Jack. “But as the breeze is stronger than ever, perhaps we can make up the lost time before nightfall.”
The wind was indeed stronger, and soon Rudskill and the surrounding settlement was left far behind.
Now that the Icicle had been recovered and they were at last on the way, all of the boys felt in high spirits. Boxy began to whistle merrily, and soon after Pickles broke out into a comic negro ditty that set them all to roaring.