"How do you mean?"
"Well, how'd a colored boy do? I know of one that's right to home on the lakes, and he's a character, you bet. His name's Pickerel Pete; that's all he's got, just Pickerel Pete."
"He'll do," said Matt. "How can I get hold of Pickerel Pete?"
"Tell you what I'll do; I'll get hold of him for you. When you going to put that boat in the water?"
"Right away."
"'Course we got to deliver it for you. I'll have some of the boys help me get it on the dray, and on the way down to the lake I'll pick up Pete. You don't need to wait here. In half an hour you go down King Street to Wilson. There's a lot of landings and boathouses t'other side the railroad depot. If we ain't there when you reach the place, you wait, and we'll show up pretty soon afterward."
"That's mighty good of you," said Matt. "You'll be careful of the boat, will you?"
"Sure, you bet. No harm'll happen to her. We got a special dray for movin' boats like that."
Matt went to the capitol grounds and sat down on a bench. For half or three-quarters of an hour he was there, thinking of George and the unsatisfactory state his affairs had drifted into.