and lousy—heaps and heaps,” Harvey replied, quoting Long Jack. “How’s the game?”
Little Penn’s jaw dropped.
“ ’Tweren’t none o’ his fault,” snapped Uncle Salters. “Penn’s deef.”
“Checkers, weren’t it?” said Dan, as Harvey staggered aft with the steaming coffee in a tin pail. “That lets us out o’ cleanin’ up tonight. Dad’s a jest man. They’ll have to do it.”
“An’ two young fellers I know’ll bait up a tub or so o’ trawl, while they’re cleanin’,” said Disko, lashing the wheel to his taste.
“Um! Guess I’d ruther clean up, Dad.”
“Don’t doubt it. Ye wun’t, though.
Dress daown! Dress daown!
Penn’ll pitch while you two bait up.”
“Why in thunder didn’t them blame boys tell us you’d struck on?” said Uncle Salters, shuffling to his place at the table. “This knife’s gum-blunt, Dan.”
“Ef