“Where are they? I can’t see any,” returned the boy.
“You notice those lanes of water, don’t you?” and Captain Perkins pointed to a series of courses, some twelve feet wide, which traversed the flats at intervals of two or three hundred feet.
“Yes.”
“Well, those are the streets.”
“Oh, I mean regular dirt streets,” protested Ted.
“There aren’t any. Unless you come by launch or some of the big passenger boats that ply between the summer settlements and Detroit, you can’t get within ten miles of the colony here.”
At this statement the young homesteaders looked with increased interest at the novel settlement, and Ted began:
“Why, it’s a regular—”
“Don’t say it,” interrupted the skipper; “there’s a fine of five dollars, if you do.”
“Say what?” demanded the boy. “How do you know what I was going to say?”