“Can you catch a fish for this starving boy?” demanded Clay.
“Ah suah can!” answered Uncle Zeke. “Dar’s plenty ob fish in de ribber, but Ah hain’t got no hook an’ line.”
“Can you find bait?” asked Alex.
“Worms and grubs!” replied the darker pointing to the bank of the river.
“Well,” Clay informed him, “there are hooks and lines under the prow of the rowboat. You’ll find all kinds of fishing outfit there, including a piece of a jointed bamboo rod. If I wasn’t so nearly dead for want of sleep, I’d go and catch a fish myself!”
“That’s the ticket!” cried Alex. “You crawl under there and go to sleep, and when Uncle Zeke and I come back from our fishing trip, you’ll be somewhere up in the blue sky looking for Case and Jule.”
“Mighty funny thing where those boys went to!” Clay suggested. “Do the pirates ever come over into this cove, Uncle Zeke?” he added.
The negro, being somewhat puzzled at the abrupt question, Clay explained to him that two of their chums had disappeared in a mysterious manner. After listening to the explanation, the old negro made a circuit of the cove, examining the turf closely as he passed along.
When he returned to the embers of the fire, what was left of his gray hair was standing almost on end notwithstanding its natural kinkiness. The terror he had felt at the sight of the bear was nothing to this.
“What is it, Uncle Zeke?” Alex asked.