“No,” replied Dick, firmly, “I’m not. I am done with Silas Maslin for good and all.”
The boys were resting on a decayed tree-trunk by the side of the canal.
It was now almost dark, and both of them, having had nothing to eat since noon, were hungry.
“I guess you’ve done the right thing, Dick,” said his friend. “You aren’t likely to be any worse off than you’ve been at the Corner.”
“I’d have pretty hard luck if I was. I’d never amount to much as long as I stayed with Mr. Maslin. He took care that I didn’t get much chance to get up in the world. I wish now I’d more schooling,” said the boy, regretfully.
“I’ll bet you know more than Luke Maslin, and he’s gone regularly to the district school. At his age—he’s a year older than you—he ought to be at the Slocum High School. I don’t think he cares a lot to study.”
“Many boys don’t seem to realize what they let get by them until it is too late,” said Dick. “You and I, Joe, have got to cut our own way in life without any help from anybody. I guess you can hold up your end. As for me, I don’t intend to let any grass grow under my feet from this on. If you’ve rested enough, we’ll move on to Norton’s. Perhaps your friend Cap’n Beasley will give us something to eat. I haven’t had a mouthful since dinner, and I feel as if I could clean out a pantry.”
“Same here. Captain Beasley is all right, and so is his wife. They wouldn’t see anyone, even a tramp, go hungry if they could help it,” said Joe as the boys resumed their march. “They’ve a daughter, too, named Florrie. She’s as pretty as a picture,” and Joe grinned broadly.
Dick wasn’t particularly interested in pretty girls at that moment. He was thinking whether Captain Beasley would consent to take him down to New York along with Joe on the canal-boat.
“I guess he will if I pay him something, and I’m willing to put up what’s fair,” mused the boy.