“I haven’t decided yet but the canal-boat Minnehaha is taking on a load of shingles at Norton’s Lock, a few miles above, and Captain Beasley told me he’d take me down to New York if I wanted to go.”
“I wish I were going with you, Joe,” said Dick, wistfully.
“I wish you were.”
“I’m sick of this place. They treat me like a dog, and I won’t stand it much longer. Had a run-in with Luke a little while ago.”
“I don’t see that it’s doing you any good to hang on here,” said Joe. “Maslin hasn’t any claim on you, has he?”
“Not a bit; it’s all the other way. He hasn’t paid me a cent all these years I’ve been working for him. All I’ve ever got has been the clothes he grudgingly gave me—none of the best, at that—and my board, and I guess you know what sort of a table they set here.”
“I’ve heard enough from you to make me believe it isn’t much of an improvement on Boggs’ bill of fare—and that’s about the worst ever!”
“You never told me how you came to live with the Maslins,” said Joe, curiously.
“I didn’t know myself till a couple of months ago.”
“Is that a fact?” said Joe in surprise.