“Is it settled? We can rent the boat?” demanded Virginia, all business.
“I hain’t so sure,” replied the mariner doubtfully. “This yere river bottom changes every day. I hain’t took the Nancy Jane to Elgin’s Grove in two year. I dunno as I knows where the old channel has gone. I guess I plum forgot.”
“Couldn’t we get some one who knows the river?” Virginia failed to reckon with the pride of seafaring men.
“There hain’t no man knows the Lame Moose like I knows her,” protested Mr. Quince greatly offended. “I allers was the pilot of the Nancy Jane and I still aims so to be.”
Virginia smiled sweetly at the hurt riverman. “Please take us up in your boat. It will be so much fun.”
Mr. Quince surrendered. “I’ll take the old boat to the grove if I have to wait for the spring freshets to do it.”
“It won’t be dangerous, will it?” cried Virginia, disturbed by the vigor of the mariner’s remarks. “The boat won’t sink, will it?”
“That wouldn’t make no odds, nohow,” Mr. Quince reassured her. “That bottom of the Lame Moose is so near the top you wouldn’t know no difference.”
It was finally agreed that the Nancy Jane should await the arrival of its passengers at a convenient place below the highway bridge at the hour of ten on the next morning. But, before they left, Mr. Quince, after inspecting the cars upon nearby switch tracks, announced, “I don’t seem to have no coal a layin’ around handy, so I better have five bucks on account in case I have to buy some.”