“Yes, I’m her son. I’m not so small as I look with just my head out of water. I guess I’d better climb in, if you don’t mind, and paddle you ashore.”
“You may climb in, if you want to—but I can paddle myself all right.”
“Is she steady? Can I put all my weight on one side, or must I get in over the end?”
“She’s steady as a scow.”
Ben pulled himself up and scrambled in. A paddle lay aft. He took it up and stroked for the shore.
“It was a funny place to find you,” he ventured.
“Why funny?” she asked gravely.
“Well—queer. A little girl all alone in a big pirogue and caught against the net stakes.”
“I’m eleven years old. I caught the pirogue there on purpose because I thought I was getting near to O’Dell’s Point and I was afraid to land in the dark.”
“Do you know my mother?”