As they rounded a bend on the stream a faint splash sounded in front. Sherry listened with pent breath. “Ducks, enty, Uncle?” he whispered.
“Great Gawd, Sherry! Wha’ dat ail you’ years?”
Almost at once they swung into sight of April in a boat much like their own. He had a load of sacks and packages and its back was piled high with oysters in the shell. His trousers were inside his laced-up boots and a silver watch-chain dangled from a side pocket.
Uncle Bill hailed him, “Good mawnin’, son! How come you so dressed up? I don’ like dem boots. You’s a good swimmer fo’ true, but boots kin drown a fish. A watch kin fool you too. I wouldn’t trust to no watch. Not me!”
“I rather drown dan let oyster shells cut my feets all up. Plain shoes don’ hinder ’em. But how you like dese fish?” He held up a string of long, smooth, snaky-looking creatures. They could have passed for short fat snakes.
“Great Gawd, de eels! You sho’ had luck wid you dis mawnin’.”
“Luck stay wid me!” April bragged, but Sherry laughed.
“You must be mean Bad Luck, enty? If I’d catch a’ eel, I’d call it Bad Luck!”
“How come so?”
“I can’ stand to look at a’ eel, much less eat one. Not me!”