“That’s the way to talk,” said Phil; “but it won’t do to lead us to any place so far from this house that we can’t hear them call at mealtime. We can’t live straight along on fish, you know.”
A few minutes after this conversation, Adam Guy walked up to Mr. Brewer, who was leaning on the fence of his little garden.
“Look here, John Brewer!” he cried; “what did you mean by sayin’ that we couldn’t get a boat to go up the river in? In that little creek back there, there’s a boat plenty big enough for us. Don’t she belong to you?”
“Yes,” said Mr. Brewer, “she’s mine, but her mast’s unshipped, and her main-sail’s in the house to be mended.”
“Can’t we ship the mast and mend the sail?” asked Adam.
“Yes, you might do that,” answered Mr. Brewer.
“Well, then,” cried Adam, “we’re all right! She doesn’t leak, does she? And you’ll hire her to us, won’t you?”
“Her hull’s all right,” said Mr. John Brewer, “and I reckon I’d hire her to you.”
“And why didn’t you tell us about her before?” exclaimed Adam.
“You didn’t say anything about my hirin’ you a boat,” said the other. “If you’d ’a’ asked me, I’d ’a’ said you could have her.”