‘And naow to thee, O Capting, Most earnestly I pray, That they shall never bury me In church or cloister gray.’
“Double game for Tom Platt. He’ll tell you all about the old Ohio tomorrow.
’See that blue dory behind him? He’s my uncle—Dad’s own brother—an’ ef there’s any bad luck loose on the Banks she’ll fetch up agin Uncle Salters, sure. Look how tender he’s rowin’. I’ll lay my wage and share he’s the only man stung up today—an’ he’s stung up good.”
“What’ll sting him?” said Harvey, getting interested.
“Strawberries, mostly. Pumpkins, sometimes, an’ sometimes lemons an’ cucumbers. Yes, he’s stung up from his elbows down. That man’s luck’s perfectly paralyzin’. Naow we’ll take a-holt o’ the tackles an’ hist ’em in. Is it true what