"And that's just what I want to do," answered Dan.
"Then how would we make a living?"
"Easy enough. Can't we all shoot birds and rabbits when the season's open, and snare 'em when it's shut? And can't mother earn a dollar every day by washing for them rich—"
"Dan, I'm ashamed of you," interrupted Joe. "What mother wants is rest, and not more work. Come on; what's the use of being so lazy? You've got to make a start some time or other."
But Dan made no move, and Joe, who was very much disgusted with his brother's obstinacy, threw down the sweep, sprang ashore and ran up the bank toward the little board cabin that stood at the top.
Finding that the door would not open for him, Joe ran around the corner of the building, and looked in at a convenient window, just in time to catch his father in the act of thrusting a letter into his pocket. The ferryman's face was flushed, and his movements were nervous and hurried. The boy saw at a glance that he was greatly excited about something.
"As long as I have been acquainted with him, I never knew him to get a letter before," said Joe to himself. "He has heard some very good or some very bad news, for he is so upset that he doesn't seem to know what he is about."
"I heard 'em blowing, Joey," said Silas, without waiting for the boy to speak, "and now we'll go and bring 'em over. Thank goodness, I won't have to follow this mean business much longer. I don't like it, Joey. I wasn't born to wait on other folks, and I'm going to quit it."
"Then you will have to quit ferrying," said Joe, as he followed his father down the bank.
"That's just what I intend to do," answered Silas, and then the boy noticed that there was a triumphant smile on his face, and that he rubbed his hands together as if he were thinking about something that afforded him the greatest satisfaction. "I've got an idee into my head, and if I don't make the folks around here look wild some of these days, I'm a goat," added the ferryman.