seen 'er," he echoed. "She'd go like—like a horse."
This simile exhausted by popularity, the group was silent once more, with pipes glowing in the dark. A bent figure slouched past them down the beach.
"Hey, Mulb'ry," some one called after it. "Goin' out a'ready?" There was no answer. "Mulb'ry's sore 'cause he didn't git all that bottle o' gin las' night," mocked the Yankee.
Another figure tramped down through the pebbles.
"Muckahi!" came a yell from a neighboring group. "Sebattis, ain't you got that bo't down yet?"
The soft voice of an Indian replied. With quiet command of the vernacular, he advised his questioner to go deeper than Purgatory. Old Kellum straightened his curved shoulders.
"Sebattis," he shouted, "you go git that bo't off 'fore I give ye a lift."
There came the hollow grating of a boat pulled down to the water. "That Injun 'll be takin' charge round here," growled Kellum.
