"No-o. I guess not," confessed the little girl.
"Then it can't be morning," Sammy declared, for what better time-keeper can there be than a child's stomach?
"But aren't they going to let us out—not ever, Sammy?" wailed the little girl.
"Pshaw! Of course they will. Some time they'll want to load up this old boat. And then they'll have to open the door up there in the deck. So we'll get out."
"But—but suppose it should be a long, long time?" breathed Dot, thrilled with the awfulness of the thought.
"We got plenty to eat," Sammy said stoutly.
"Not now we haven't, Sammy," Dot reminded him. "We ate a lot."
"But there's all the potatoes—"
"I wouldn't like 'em raw," put in Dot, with decision. "And you can't catch any fish as you were going to with your hook and line, Sammy. I heard that girl that's with the other pirates," she added, "tell their dog that he couldn't even catch rabbits along the canal. And what do you think, Sammy Pinkney!"