“Does she play ‘Annie Laurie?’” inquired Alex, who had been writing rapidly on a scrap of paper.
“Of course,” said Case stoutly. “She can do anything any girl in Chicago can do, and do it better.” “I just made up another verse that you two might like to sing together when you get back.”
Case took the scrap of paper and read:
“An’ her hair was like the red bird’s
Her neck scraggly like the crane’s
An’ her feet they were the biggest
I’ll ever see again.”
Case surrendered. “Sit still for two hours and I’ll fix a place in the sunshine on deck for you. And you won’t tell any of the boys about your vision?” he inquired anxiously.
“Nary a tell,” Alex promised, solemnly, “and I say. Case, I was just joshing about her. She’s pretty and a good appearing girl.”
“She’s both,” said Case, happily, as he turned to go on deck.
CHAPTER XIII
ON THE YUKON
Case had hardly disappeared when Ike came rushing down into the cabin in a panic. “My pants, my pants,” he cried.