Garth let him see that he understood—and he did understand, both the pitiful little tale, and the boy's reason for wishing to tell him.
"And to think of her asleep in there now!" he continued remorsefully. "It makes me sick and disgusted with myself. I'd give anything if it hadn't happened! You bet I'll have no truck with them in future!"
"Every man makes mistakes, old boy," said Garth.
Charley, his mind relieved by confession, in the midst of further rhapsodies, suddenly fell asleep.
In the morning he awoke all of a piece, as boys do, and rolling over, said instantly:
"Natalie is sure the prettiest name there is!"
Later in the day in the middle of their somewhat hopeless deliberations upon the repairing of the half-submerged Flat-iron—her flimsily hung planks had been started even by her gentle journey on the river—there was a hail from down-stream. Looking, they saw four swart figures bending one after another in a tracking-harness, crawling around the edge of the cut-bank below. Presently a sharp prow nosed around the bend; and a long, low, double-ended galley swung into view, floating lazily on the current like a gigantic duck.
"A York boat!" cried Charley in surprise. "Didn't know any was due! Here's your chance to cross the lake!"
"Hm!" said Garth doubtfully. "We'll find out, first, what news she brings from below."