“I know, William—and it’s all right—and I liked it!”
“You ’d pay a little suthin’,” suggested Andy.
“Oh, anything reasonable,” responded the tall man. “Now let’s see the map.”
III
THEY bent over the table, following Uncle William’s finger. The room was filled with light smoke from Uncle William’s pipe and the cigarette that Bodet held in his fingers and whiffed from time to time. The dusk outside crept in and mingled with the smoke.
“It’s along up here somewheres....” said Uncle William, peering at the map—“Here—! Here it is!” He glued his finger to a tiny spot—“They stopped here, they said—off St. Pierre, and then run along up through Placentia Bay and stopped off two-three times, and back to St. Mary’s—kind o’ edgin’ along—They struck a squall here—off Lance Point—and that kep’ ’em back a spell—”
“The boat’s all right!” said Bodet quickly.
“Oh, she’s all right, I guess. They didn’t say nothin’ about the boat. They was writin’ about the scenery and about their feelings, and so on; but I managed to make out their course—puttin’ this and that together. Your boat’s all right, Benjy. She ’ll stand any weather they ’ll get this time o’ year.”