The trip to town had become absolutely necessary. Peter had drawn ten dollars from the farmer and he had some spoons ready for sale. The farmer was going to town and Peter had at first decided to take Buddy with him, but the spoon peddling excursion would, he feared, tire the boy too much, and he ended by planning to let Booge and Buddy stay in the shanty-boat.
It was an index to Peter's changed opinion of the tramp that he felt reasonably safe in leaving Buddy in Booge's care. For one thing Booge was sure to stay with the boat as long as food held out and work was not too pressing. The river had closed and the boat was solidly frozen in the slough. There was no possibility of Booge's floating away in it.
“I won't be back until late,” said Peter the next morning as he pinned his thin coat close about his neck, “and it's possible I won't get my spoons all sold out to-day. If I don't I'll stay all night with a friend up town and get back somewhere to-morrow. And you take good care of Buddy, for if anything happens to him I'll hunt you up, no matter where you are, and make you wish it hadn't.”
“Unless this horse runs away with him there ain't nothin' to happen,” said Booge. “You needn't worry.”
“And, Buddy, if you are a good boy and let Booge put you to bed, if I don't get back, Uncle Peter will bring you something you've been wanting this long while.”
“I know what you 're going to bring me,” said Buddy.
“I bet you do, you little rascal,” said Peter, thinking of the jack-knife. “We both of us know, don't we? Good-by, Buddy-boy.”
He picked up the boy and kissed him.
“You don't know what Uncle Peter is going to bring me, Uncle Booge!” said Buddy joyfully, when Peter was gone.
“No, sir!” said Booge.