Hannibal saw a small skiff beached among the cottonwoods that grew along the water's edge and his eyes lighted up instantly. He had a juvenile passion for boats.
“Why, you got a boat, ain't you, Miss Betty?” This was a charming and an important discovery.
“Would you like to go down to it?” inquired Betty.
“'Deed I would! Does she leak any, Miss Betty?”
“I don't know about that. Do boats usually leak, Hannibal?”
“Why, you ain't ever been out rowing in her, Miss Betty, have you?—and there ain't no better fun than rowing a boat!” They had started down the path.
“I used to think that, too, Hannibal; how do you suppose it is that when people grow up they forget all about the really nice things they might do?”
“What use is she if you don't go rowing in her?” persisted Hannibal.
“Oh, but it is used. Mr. Tom uses it in crossing to the other side where they are clearing land for cotton. It saves him a long walk or ride about the head of the bayou.”
“Like I should take you out in her, Miss Betty?” demanded Hannibal with palpitating anxiety.