“They appear to be a fine lot of dogs!” Clay said, resolved to conciliate the woman if possible. “I’m used to Kentucky dogs, so I was not at all afraid of them.”
“What mought be your business, stranger?” the woman asked then.
“Well,” Clay answered, “I’m looking for something to eat.”
“Sho’!” answered the woman. “A nice, likely lookin’ lad like you goin’ around hungry! I’d be glad to give you a set-down of flapjacks and coffee. Come right in.”
“That would help some!” laughed Clay. “But what I want is provisions to carry away to my chums—eggs, chickens or anything of that sort you may have to sell.”
“And where mought your chums be?” asked the woman, a little suspiciously as Clay thought.
“We came down the river in a motor boat,” the boy replied, “and I left the boys in a cove some distance from here.”
“I wonder, now,” the woman queried, “whether you might have been on the river last night.”
Clay replied in the affirmative.
“Well,” the woman went on, “I’ve been waiting all morning for news from the river. My men went out last night at dusk and haven’t returned.”