“This isn’t my houseboat,” said Joe. “I want to get towed to the next landing and leave it there.”
He looked at his late employer with some doubt, remembering their most recent encounters, but Burnam’s face expressed the greatest friendliness.
“Give this boat a tow to Dixie Landing, Captain Andrews,” he said to the steamboat captain, who had come up behind them. “You can charge it up to me. I’m mighty glad I ran across you, Joe,” he continued. “I wanted to see you. Come with me into the clerk’s office, where we can talk.”
There was no one in the little den which the boat clerk used for his business, and the two established themselves there and shut the door. The steamer got under way again, with the houseboat hitched alongside. By looking out the window, Joe could see Bob and Sam in the electric light, still aboard the captured craft.
“Morris told me all about your leaving,” Burnam began, with a smile. “Reckon I don’t blame you much. But I don’t remember anything about jumping on you and firing you the night of the fire. I do things like that sometimes when I get excited, and I sure was excited that night. I’d have fired anybody sooner than you. You’ll just have to forget it.”
“Why, I—of course!” Joe stammered, taken aback by this frankness.
“Now I’ve just been down to Mobile to see about getting a new retort for the still,” the turpentine man went on. “I find that I can’t get one inside of a month, and it’s cost about double what it’s worth at that. Nearly all my chippers have cleared out, too. The turpentine camp’s going to shut down.
“But don’t you worry, Marshall!” he went on earnestly. “You haven’t got stock in the business, you know. You’ve got my personal note for your money, and none of Bill Burnam’s notes has ever been dishonored yet. I’ve made a contract to sell the timber off the river orchard, and I’m going to cut it next winter. That’ll clear all my liabilities and leave a handsome profit.
“Now I wish you’d come back and help us close things up for a week. In fact, I’ll be using some men all the rest of the summer in the woods, and next winter you can help to manage the timber gangs, if you want to. Same wages, and I can pay off your note next spring; or maybe I could let you have a little sooner, if you needed any.”
“Why, Mr. Burnam,” said Joe, nervously. “I’ll come up for a week, sure; but the fact is, I’ve been thinking of going into the bee business.”