“Well, I only meant it as a surprise. Is she very leaky?”
Scarlett seemed disposed to hold off, but the interest of the project in hand swept all that away, and he replied sociably enough.
“No; she has been so deep in the water and got so soaked, that I don’t think much comes in.”
“Bale away, then,” cried Fred.
“Suppose you have a turn. I’m getting hot.”
Fred required no further hint, but stripping off his jerkin and rolling up his sleeves, he was soon at work scooping up the water and sending it flying and sparkling in the morning sunshine, while Scarlett sat and chatted.
“I didn’t care to ask Nat to clean out the boat,” he said, “for he’s such an inquisitive fellow. He’d have wanted to know what I was going to do, and if I hadn’t told him—”
“I know,” said Fred, making a momentary iris as he sent the water flying, “he’d have hidden away and watched you.”
“Yes; sure to.”
“And Samson’s just the same. I have to cheat him sometimes. But it didn’t matter cheating old Nat. What I think was so shabby was trying to cheat me.”