“For reforming a pirate,” said Neale.
CHAPTER IX—A WAYSIDE BIVOUAC
Ruth insisted upon stopping at the first brook they came to and Sammy was made presentable—his face and hands scrubbed and his clothing brushed.
“Yuh needn’t be so particular,” said Sammy. “There’ll more dirt get on me before night.”
“Listen to him!” groaned Ruth.
Mrs. Heard laughed. “That’s what it means to have a boy in the family. Oh, I know! I brought up my nephew, Philly, for the most part. I had to watch him like a cat at a mousehole to see that he did not go to bed at night without washing his feet. He would run barefoot.”
“One of the penalties of going on this excursion, young man,” said Agnes to Sammy, “is having to keep clean. I know it’s going to be hard sledding for you; but we can’t afford to have a grubby looking youngster in the party.”
Sammy sighed, muttering: “Well! I guess I can stand it. Ma bathed me all over, every day, when I was sick. Guess that’s why I’m so thin now. She purt’ near washed me all away.”
The first day’s journey had been carefully laid out, and the party of tourists from the old Corner House knew just where they were to stay that night. They were not to be bound throughout their tour, however, by hard-and-fast plans or rules.
“It’s a poor rule that can’t be broken,” said the matter-of-fact Mrs. Heard. “Just the same we want to know something about where we are going—sometimes. I wouldn’t fancy being caught out in some wilderness on a stormy night, for instance, with nothing better than somebody’s barn to take refuge in.”