Well, we fooled around maybe an hour, and then I heard a little motor boat coming, and Catty leaned over and squinted hard. “Bet it’s them,” says he.
“The _Porpoises_, of course,” says he. “What you think I’m fooling around here for?”
“The only way to find out,” says I, as sarcastic as I could make it, “was to come along and see. I’m seeing.”
“Keep right at it,” says he, “and don’t let your eyes get tired.... It’s their dinghy, sure as shooting.”
The dinghy went past us, maybe a hundred yards off, and kept on going.
So we did, and pretty soon we could hear that they had stopped the motor.
“Going ashore,” says Catty. Then he turned to the young man. “Say,” says he, “can you beach this boat?”
“I can,” says he, “but the real question is, will I? The answer is I will.”
So he headed in, and then jerked up the center board and brought her about. “You’ll have to wade a piece,” says he.
“All right,” says Catty. “You stand off and on till I whistle three times. Then run in to pick us up.”
I kind of admired his language. That “stand off and on” sounded pretty fair to me. Right off I knew he got it out of a book somewheres. He was getting awful nautical.
He took off his shoes and stockings and I did the same, and we stepped off on a sandy bottom and waded ashore.
“What kind of dum foolishness is this?” says I.
“Jest looking for turtles’ eggs,” says he. “A feller told me the time to find ’em was by moonlight.”
“I don’t need any turtles’ eggs,” says I.
“Not many folks does,” says he, “but I do. I want to send a box of them home to Dad. He’s that fond of turtles’ eggs you wouldn’t believe it.”
“Go ahead,” says I; “if they’re for your Dad, why I’ll help you to the bitter end.... But you promised Mr. Browning you wouldn’t go planning any plans without letting him know.”
“I’m not. I’m hunting turtles’ eggs, and if anything happens while I’m doing it, it isn’t my fault, is it?”
With that he started off along the shore, slinking like an Indian, and I was subtile, like James Fenimore Cooper says, right at his heels. We were about the most subtile pair of kids that ever were. Why, we went along so quiet we almost lost ourselves, and every once in a while I had to pinch my leg to make sure I was there. It worried me. When a fellow’s out at night that way, he don’t enjoy the feeling that he’s got lost from himself.