“Why, that’s the Triton!” Kit said to himself, when he saw the tug’s name. “That’s Captain Judson’s boat, from Bridgeport, and Captain Judson is our near neighbor in Huntington. If he is going back, maybe he will take my barrel of fruit up to Bridgeport.”
“Yes, going back to-night,” Captain Judson said, when Kit found him. “I towed a yacht down yesterday. Take up a barrel of fruit for you? Aye, that I will, lad—and take you too, if you can get off. I know somebody up there who’d be glad to see you. Eh, my boy?”
Take him too! That was something that Kit had not thought of; but what a surprise it would be for the folks at home to see him come walking in! Within five minutes he had seen Captain Griffith and had readily been granted a week’s leave of absence.
CHAPTER IV.
KIT’S CONNECTICUT HOME.
THE Huntington stage was the same old weather-beaten stage that Kit had left a month before, but its wheels were gone. Fairfield County, all the way from Bridgeport back to Huntington and beyond, was white with snow, and the frozen roads were packed hard. The body of the stage had been lifted from its wheels and put on runners, and the bells on its two gaunt horses jingled merrily through the Bridgeport streets and over the Connecticut hills.
“My folks all well, Silas?” was the first question that Kit asked when he found the stage nearly ready to start.
“They was right peart when I come down this mornin’,” the driver replied, “so I guess they hain’t gone into a decline since. Sakes alive, but won’t they be surprised to see you, though! They was lookin’ for a letter. But what’s this, Kit? No overcoat! Here, wrap this hoss blanket ’round you snug.”
“Oh, you don’t know how good the cold feels, Silas,” Kit laughed, though he was glad enough to accept the blanket. “I’ve just come from a country where the sun burns like a hot iron, and the trees were full of fruit, ten days ago.”
Involuntarily he looked around to see that his barrel was safe.