CHAPTER XIX.
WAITING FOR A VISITOR.
During the rest of that day The Rolling Stone had a fair wind, and made a good trip. An hour after starting she passed the Maggie, which kept well away on the other side of the river. Evening was coming on, when Adam ran his boat in at a point he had been very anxious to make. This was at a solitary little house, at the edge of the woods, inhabited by a man whom he knew. During his former life on the Indian River, Adam had made the acquaintance of nearly all the settlers along the shores, and he was delighted to find that his old friend, Tom Pitman, still lived at this place.
Pitman was a tall, wiry man, full of action, and very talkative. He had a small house near the shore, where he lived, with his wife and two half-grown daughters, and, back in the woods, he had cleared a field, which he had planted with pine-apples.
Everything about the place seemed neat and in good order. The field and a small yard in front of the house were well fenced, and there was a little pier running out into the water, near which a small boat was moored, while a sail-boat was in course of repair on the beach near by.
Pitman came out of his house as The Rolling Stone sailed up, and gave Adam and his companions a hearty welcome; but, in spite of his cheerful manner, Adam noticed that there seemed to be something on his mind. He was continually looking about him, and seemed to be in a great hurry to get the party disposed of for the night.
“I suppose we can tie up to your pier, Tom?” said Adam.
“I don’t know about that,” replied Pitman; “not if any of you is goin’ to sleep on board. I’d have you all come up and sleep in the house, but I haven’t got room enough for four of you. I’ve got a bed, though, that two of you can have. But them that sleeps on the boat had better anchor out a good ways from the shore, after we’ve all had our supper, and it’s dark. You needn’t do no cookin’ for yourselves. You’ve all got to come in-doors, and eat with us.”
“I suppose we can tie up here till supper is over, can’t we?” asked Adam.
“Well, no,” said Pitman, a little nervously. “You’d better run her up on the beach there by my boat, and bring your anchor ashore. It may be dark afore we’ve done supper.”