good times on it, eh?” laughed the artist in his jovial roar. “I wish I could go along, if you’d have me; but I’m going across after awhile. But the boat’s yours when you want it, and I hope you’ll have the jolliest sort of a time, boys.”
“It’s mighty nice of you to want us to have it,” said Roy. “We’ll take very good care of it, Mr. Cole, and—”
“Oh, don’t bother about that,” laughed the painter. “You know I’ve got tired of it, boys. Besides, it’s well insured and if it happens to go to the bottom, why, I sha’n’t mind a bit—as long as you get out first! She’s at Loving’s Landing, if you know where that is; about fifteen miles up the river. You’ll find her in good condition, I guess. I wrote the man day before yesterday to open her up and get her in shape. She needs paint, as I wrote you; but I don’t believe I want to go to the expense of having her done over. But if you think you’d rather have her freshened up it won’t cost much to have Higgins put on one coat for you.”
“I guess she’s all right as she is,” said Chub. He looked at Roy and that youth took the hint.
