But Lewston was not in his cabin, and so Harry hurried along a road in
the woods that led by another negro cabin about a half-mile away,
thinking that the old man had gone off in that direction. Every minute
or two he shouted at the top of his voice, "Oh, Lewston!"

Very soon he heard some one shouting in reply, and he recognized
Lewston's voice. It seemed to come from the creek.

Thereupon, Harry made his way through the trees and soon caught sight of
the old colored man. He was in a boat, poling his way along in the
shallow water as close to dry land as the woods allowed him, and
sometimes, where the trees were wide apart, sending the boat right
between some of their tall trunks.

"Hello, Lewston," cried Harry, running as near as he could go without
getting his shoes wet, for the water ran up quite a distance among the
trees in some places. "What are you about? Where did you get that boat?
I want a boat."

"Dat's jist what I thought, Mah'sr Harry," said Lewston, still poling
away as hard as he could. "I know de compuny'd want to git ober de
creek, an' I jist went up to Hiram Anderson's and borrowed his ole boat.
Ise been a-bailing her out all de mornin'."

"You're a trump, Lewston," said Harry. "Pole her down opposite your
house, and then one of us will go over. Why don't you go out farther?
You can't get along half as fast in here by the trees and hummocks as
you could in deeper water."

"You don't ketch me out dar in dat runnin' water," said Lewston. "I'd be