“Oh, no, thanks, I don’t want no drink!” Zeek hastily protested, and Rick said, afterward, that he might have asked for some to wash in and not be far out of the way, as he was somewhat dirty.
“Well, Zeek, is that all you came up to ask about?” went on Uncle Tod, who seemed to enjoy the fellow’s discomfiture—and bashful and discomfited Zeek Took certainly was.
“Ya-as—that’s all, I reckon,” and Zeek’s shifty eyes darted here and there about the camp, as if spying.
“Who sent you?” suddenly asked Uncle Tod.
“Eh?”
Zeek clearly was taken by surprise.
“Who sent you?” repeated Mr. Belmont.
“Why—er—now—nobody sent me! I come myself.”
“Oh, you did? What for?”
“Wa’al,” he slowly drawled as if seeking an excuse, “I—er—now—I thought maybe if th’ river wa’n’t runnin’ you’d hire me t’ cart water so’s you could wash out th’ dirt.”