“Mum’s the word,” he whispered. “Don’t say nothin’, but jes’ git around it’s quick’s ye can.”
Joe followed the advice without further delay.
“Blixey,” he said, between his mouthfuls, “you’re very good.”
As he ate, the captain’s hoarse voice was heard from the tow-path: “Blixey!”
“What is it, boss?” asked the negro, stumbling up the cabin stairs.
“Send that young rascal out here!”
The negro crawled back part of the way down the stairs. There was a certain compassion in his voice as he said,—
“You’ll hef to go, honey, an’ right smart, too. I know him.”
So Joe went, and took up again in the blackness of night his dreary, cruel task on the tow-path. He thought it would never end; that the sun would soon rise at his back, and that he should be kept right on at his work through another day.