The three wise men of Gotham were not much worse off when they went to
sea in a bowl than was Dick Lee in that rickety little old flat-bottomed
punt.

Did it leak?

Well, not so very much, with no heavier weight than Dick's; but there
was reason in his remark that,--

"Dis yer's a mean boat to frow down a fish in, when you cotch 'im. He's
done suah to git drownded."

Yes, and the crabs would get their feet wet, and so would Dick; but he
resigned himself to his circumstances, and pushed away. To tell the
truth, he had not been able to free himself from a lingering fear lest
his mother might come after him, before he could get afloat, with orders
for some duty or other on shore; and that would have been worse than
going to sea in the little old scow, a good deal.

"Reckon it's all right," said Dick as he shoved off. "It'd be an awful
risk to trus' dem nice clo'es in de ole boat, suah."

Nice clothes, nice boats, a good many other nice things, were as yet
beyond the reach of Dick Lee; but he was quite likely to catch as many
crabs as his more aristocratic neighbors.

As for Dabney Kinzer and his friend from the city, they were on their
way to the water-side, after all, at an hour which indicated either
smaller appetites than usual or greater speed at the breakfast-table.