Every one accomplished it safely but Dimple,
whose foot slipped, and over she went, full length into the mire. A
sorry sight she was indeed, when she was picked up; plastered from head
to foot; face, hands and hair full of the soft ooze. But after she had
been scraped off, Callie concluded that it would be better to let the
sun dry her well, before attempting to get rid of the rest.
"About this job," said the man, "it's worth somethin', ain't it? It's
considerable out of my way, travelin' to the middle of the river;
besides I've got to look out for that boat, that nobody don't steal it."
"How much do you expect?" asked Callie, meekly. This was getting more
and more serious.
"A couple of dollars ain't much when ye consider there's five of ye, and
if I hadn't stopped ye, ye'd be goin' yet. My name's Bill Hart, and any
one'll tell you I'm safe. Ye needn't be afraid but what I'll bring back
the boat."
"Well, if you will come to my house, you shall have your money," said
Callie. "Do you know where Mr. Harley Spear lives?"
"Big white house, left side the main street. Yes, I know. You his gal?"
"I'm his daughter."
"All right. I reckon ye can git home now, can't ye? It's a straight road
along the river. I must be gettin' on. I'll fetch the boat back
to-morrow."
The girls saw him disappear, and stood, a most subdued little group.
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