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Cape Cod Stories by Joseph Crosby Lincoln
page 13 of 208 (06%)

Phil and the ice-boat met us on time. I s'pose it 'twas style, but, if I
hadn't known I'd have swore he'd run short of duds and had dressed up in
the bed-clothes. I felt of his coat when he wa'n't noticing, and if it
wa'n't made out of a blanket then I never slept under one. And it
made me think of my granddad to see what he had on his head--a reg'lar
nightcap, tassel and all. Phil said he was sorry we turned in so early
the night afore. Said he'd planned to entertain us all the evening. We
didn't hurrah much at this--being suspicious, as I said--and he changed
the subject to ice-boats.

That ice-boat was a bird. I cal'lated to know a boat when I sighted one,
but a flat-iron on skates was something bran-new. I didn't think much of
it, and I could see that Jonadab didn't neither.

But in about three shakes of a lamb's tail I was ready to take it all
back and say I never said it. I done enough praying in the next half
hour to square up for every Friday night meeting I'd missed sence I was
a boy. Phil got sail onto her, and we moved out kind of slow.

"Now, then," says he, "we'll take a little jaunt up the river. 'Course
this isn't like one of your Cape Cod cats, but still--"

And then I dug my finger nails into the deck and commenced: "Now I lay
me." Talk about going! 'Twas "F-s-s-s-t!" and we was a mile from home.
"Bu-z-z-z!" and we was just getting ready to climb a bank; but 'fore she
nosed the shore Phil would put the helm over and we'd whirl round like
a windmill, with me and Jonadab biting the planking, and hanging on for
dear life, and my heart, that had been up in my mouth knocking the
soles of my boots off. And Cap'n Catesby-Stuart would grin, and
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