It had been left, it will be remembered, on the Kentucky shore of the river some distance above Wolf Creek. The boys who had landed in search of gasoline and spark plugs had left it hidden in a thicket. During their absence, the Rambler had made her way downstream for some distance, and so the rowboat had not been recovered. It looked familiar to Alex now.
“Where did you buy it?” asked the boy.
“Niggerman sold me dat boat,” answered the other.
“All right,” Alex said. “Take us across and I’ll give you the two dollars.”
He had no intention of leaving the Rambler’s boat in the possession of the negro, but he thought it advisable not to make any claim to the boat until he had reached the other side of the river.
With Teddy sitting at the very stern of the boat as far as possible from the rower, the two were ferried across, striking the bank a few paces above the east shore of the cove.
“Now,” Alex said as he stepped ashore, “come on over to the camp and I’ll give you your money.” Uncle Zeke eyed the bear critically.
“Ah nebber did cotton to no b’ar!” he said.
“Well,” Alex went on, “you’ll have to come over to the camp or I can’t give you your money.” Very reluctantly the fat, old negro waddled over to the heap of embers which was all that remained of the fire the boys had built early that morning. Alex’s wandering attention was brought back to the negro directly by a short, sharp cry of alarm.
“Fo’ de Lawd’s sake!” he cried. “Fo’ de Lawd’s sake!”