“Oh, no,” said Brad. “We just came out here on a little boat ride and for a picnic supper.”
The old man took off his battered felt and scratched his woolly head. “Reckon y’all bettah go some’ers else to eat yo’ suppah. Massa don’ like nobody in the pine grove. Reckon you see dem sign he stick up.”
They had noticed “No trespassing” signs, but Kitty had thought that applied to hunting and fishing.
“We aren’t doing a bit of harm,” Kitty told the old man. “The trees are so beautiful. There’s no reason why we shouldn’t enjoy them.”
“Yas’m, dat so, but jus’ de same boss don’t like nobody meddlin’ round the pine thicket. Might set foire an’ bu’n it up.”
“We aren’t going to cook anything. We brought a cold lunch. And if we did make a fire we’d put out every spark.”
“Yas’m, dat whut I tell him too. I been libin’ all mah life in dat shack yonder.” The old man indicated a log cabin in a clearing a little farther south. “I ain’t neber sot foire to de woods. But he can’t be satisfy when he lease de place las’ year till I come to lib in dat new house behind his.”
“Oh, he only rented the island last year?” asked Brad.
“Yessuh! An’ I has to be powerful keerful ’bout whut I does since he been here. I wouldn’t be down here fishin’ me mah ole fish place, ’cept he gone to town fer de day.”
“So you’re enjoying yourself while he’s gone,” said Kitty kindly.