“Yes, that’s what I mean.”
As they neared the shore, they were equally astonished and delighted at what they saw. From a great pile of drift slabs, logs, and stumps that lay in the cove, Uncle Isaac had made two fires,—one to sit by, and the other to cook by; he had made at the small fire a crotch to hang the pot on, and placed stones to keep the fire in place under the kettle. With his broad-axe he had made a long table and seats, of slabs. His cart stood on the beach, with the oxen chained to the wheels. In it he had brought tubs to salt the fish in, knives to split, and salt to salt them; a kettle, pork, potatoes, new cider, apples, cheese, bowls, spoons and plates, knives and forks, and some eggs to roast in the ashes. He had put the table by the big fire, and on a bench beside it sat Hannah Murch, with her white apron on, knitting, and Uncle Isaac smoking his pipe, and striving to keep from laughing.
“I hope they’ve got the table big enough,” said John; “it’s big enough for a dozen people. But only see Tige; just you look there, Charlie; he’s got a chip in his mouth; when he’s awful glad he always gets a chip, and gives little, short barks. O, I wish he could talk! Look, Fred! here he comes; only see how fast he swims!”
In a few moments Tige was alongside, licking John’s hands, which he reached out to him, when he swam beside them till they came to the beach.
“Uncle Isaac,” screamed Charlie, “I guess you’ll say something when you see what we’ve got. O, the master lot of fish!”
“I guess I shall,” he replied, standing up on his toes, and looking over the boys’ heads, right into the canoe. “I shall say you have been raal smart boys, and done a fust-rate thing. ’Tisn’t every three boys that have pluck enough to go fifteen miles outside, and load a big canoe, as you have done. I make no doubt you have enjoyed yourselves.”
“You’d better believe we have,” said Fred; “fair tide and fair wind both ways; no rowing, and no slavery of any kind.”
“I guess,” said Hannah Murch, “you’ll enjoy yourselves better when you get that chowder, and that something else I am going to make.”
“What else, Mrs. Murch?”
“That’s telling.”