Norton’s Lock was about six miles from Cobham’s Corner.
Dick and Joe reached there at eight o’clock.
Captain Beasley’s boat was moored against the eastern bank of the canal, and a few yards away was a good-sized liquor store, lit up with kerosene lamps, and, judging from the crowd within, doing a thriving trade.
There was also an open shed close by, partially filled with bundles of shingles brought there for shipment from the mill a mile or so away.
Dick followed Joe aboard the canal-boat and was introduced to Captain Beasley and his wife and daughter.
As soon as Mrs. Beasley found out that the boys were hungry, she spread a corner of the table in the little cabin for them, laid out the remains of a joint of cold mutton, boiled a pot of coffee, and upon this, flanked by a plentiful supply of bread and butter, the two lads made a very satisfactory meal.
Dick offered to pay his way to New York City, but the good-natured skipper of the Minnehaha wouldn’t hear of it for a moment.
“You and Joe here are both of you welcome to go along with us, and it sha’n’t cost you a cent. All I ask of you is to turn your hands to an odd job or two, maybe, till we hitch on behind the tug that takes us down the river.”
Dick accepted his generous offer with thanks, as Joe had already done earlier in the day when he brought his meagre bundle aboard on the strength of the captain’s former invitation.
“Neither of you lads seems to be encumbered with much dunnage,” said the skipper, with a humorous glance at the two attenuated bundles ranged side by side on a shelf and which contained all they boasted of in the world.