“Did you see anything of Bones?” Louise asked eagerly.
“Nary a sign. The dog hain’t on the island.”
“Told ye, didn’t I?” Coon demanded triumphantly.
“That ye did, son,” agreed Trapper Joe. “We’ll be gittin’ along.” On his way to the skiff, he asked carelessly: “Come here offen, do ye?”
“When I feels like it,” Coon retorted.
“Fishin’ good?”
“Fair to middlin’.”
The old trapper helped the girls into the skiff and shoved off.
“Please, must we turn back now?” Louise asked earnestly. “I hate to return without finding a trace of poor old Bones.”
“’Tain’t likely you’ll ever see the dog again.”