So saying he was off, without waiting for Bar’s reply, for his disappointment with reference to that boat had been the severest blow Zeb had received for many a day. Besides, he was really anxious to return the miller’s money with as little delay as might be.
“Puff,” said Bar, as he walked up to that worthy, “where’s the boat?”
“Down t’ the lake. Right by my house,” replied Puff, vacantly. “She’s a beauty, but all the money I had in the world was ten dollars. Skinner’s as mean as pusley, but I don’t know as I blame you. Going to bring her over to town and put her in Todderley’s pond?”
“Not so bad as that,” said Bar. “Do you suppose you know enough to take good care of her?”
“Why,” said Puff, “I built her myself, and she’s just the neatest little thing. Mast and sail, too. Runs as if she was greased.”
“Well,” said Bar, “what’ll you charge me to keep her for me? You to use her all the time, same as if you owned her, and I to have her once in awhile to go fishing in.”
“Charge?” exclaimed Puff, opening his eyes. “Charge? You git eout.”
“Well, then,” said Bar, “you go back home and look sharp after that boat. One of these days I’ll come over and take a look at her.”
“I say, mister!” exclaimed Puff, as the advantages of Bar’s proposition slowly dawned on him, “won’t ye come in and take suthin’?”
“Not a drop,” said Bar; “nor you won’t, either. That’s the way you lost your boat.”