"An' how much be them there things with the cranks onto 'em wuth?" asked Sam.
"'Bout the same. You tell the feller, when you find him, that he can have a pole an' a windlass fur five dollars."
This showed how much the squatter knew about some things. There wasn't a rod in the lot that cost less than twenty dollars, or a reel that was worth less than thirteen. Matt would have thought himself rich if he had known the real value of the property he had in his possession.
"What's into them there bundles?" demanded the old woman.
"Grub," answered Matt. "Good grub, too."
In less time than it takes to tell it, the bundles had been jerked out of the canoe and torn open. Matt's family was always hungry, and his wife and boys fairly gloated over the hard boiled eggs, bacon, sardines, sandwiches and other nice things which the boys' thoughtful mothers had put up for their dinner.
"Rich folks has nice grub to eat, don't they?" said Jake, speaking as plainly as a mouthful of bread and meat would permit.
