"I thought he was a nice boy, went to Sunday school, and belonged to the Band of Hope," continued the captain, who, however, judging from his manner, did not care whether the boy was a saint or a demon.
"I don't care what he b'longs to, nor how many Sunday schools he goes to: he stole sunthin' from me, and I cal'late he'd steal from other folks, if he would from me."
"That's good logic, Zeke; but you mustn't be hard on the boy."
"I ain't hard on him."
"I reckon that folks generally think more of him than you seem to. By the way, did he say anything to you about that boat he picked up over on the other shore?"
"No; he never said nothin' to me about it."
"Didn't he?"
"No; he never says nothin' to me about anything."
"That's a fine boat," added Captain Chinks, who had taken a lead pencil from his pocket, and was tapping the glass with it, as if to ascertain the quality of the material of which it was composed.
"So I've hearn tell; but I hain't seen her only from the shore."