"'T aint no business o' your'n," said Dick; "but we's allers lived right heah on dis bay."
"Guess not," replied the white boy, knowingly.
But Dick was right, for his people had been slaves among the very earliest Dutch settlers, and had never "lived South" at all. He was now busily getting one of the boats ready to push off; but his white tormentor went at him again with—
"Well, then, if you've lived here so long, you must know everybody."
"Reckon I do."
"Are there any nice fellows around here? Any like me?"
"De nicest young genelman 'round dis bay," replied Dick, "is Mr. Dab Kinzer. But he aint like you. Not nuff to hurt 'im."
"Dab Kinzer!" exclaimed the stranger. "Where did he get his name?"
"In de bay, I spect," said Dick, as he shoved his boat off. "Caught 'im wid a hook."
"Anyhow," said the strange boy to himself, "that's probably the sort of fellow my father would wish me to associate with. Only it's likely he's very ignorant."