Presently he
asked: "Where does that branch take you to?" He nodded toward
the bayou at the foot of the terraced bluff.
"It empties into the river," answered Betty.
Hannibal saw a small skiff beached among the cottonwoods that
grew along the water's edge and his eyes lighted up instantly.
He had a juvenile passion for boats.
"Why, you got a boat, ain't you, Miss Betty?" This was a
charming and an important discovery.
"Would you like to go down to it?" inquired Betty.
"'Deed I would! Does she leak any, Miss Betty?"
"I don't know about that. Do boats usually leak, Hannibal?"
"Why, you ain't ever been out rowing in her, Miss Betty, have
you?--and there ain't no better fun than rowing a boat!" They
had started down the path.
"I used to think that, too, Hannibal; how do you suppose it is
that when people grow up they forget all about the really nice
things they might do?"
"What use is she if you don't go rowing in her?" persisted
Hannibal.
"Oh, but it is used. Mr. Tom uses it in crossing to the other
side where they are clearing land for cotton. It saves him a
long walk or ride about the head of the bayou."
"Like I should take you out in her, Miss Betty?' demanded
Hannibal with palpitating anxiety.
They had entered the scattering timber when Betty paused suddenly
with a startled exclamation, and Hannibal felt her fingers close
convulsively about his. The sound she had heard might have been
only the rustling of the wind among the branches overhead in that
shadowy silence, but Betty's nerves, the placid nerves of youth
and perfect health, were shattered.
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