"Seems to me that is very foolish, when he might have seen them by just
waiting a few minutes," said Sabella to herself, as she pulled off Don
Blossom's gay but soaked and mud-bespattered coat. "Now perhaps he
will miss them after all."
The stranger had hardly disappeared before Solon returned to the boat,
grumbling at the weather, the mud, and, above all, at the rheumatism
that forbade him to remain out in the wet any longer.
"Hit hain't no use, honey," he said, as he opened the door, "dat ar Don
monkey gone fur good an' all dish yer time. Yo' nebber see him no mo'.
Wha--wha--whar yo fin' him? He ben yeah all de time, while ole Solon
ben er traipsin' fro de mud, an' er huntin', an' er huntin'?"
"No, indeed, he hasn't!" cried Sabella, laughing merrily, as she held
Don Blossom up to the astonished gaze of the old negro. "He has just
come home." Then she explained at length how her pet had been brought
back to her by such a good kind man.
"Well, ef dat ar ain't a beater!" ejaculated Solon. "I's mighty glad
de lil rasc'l is foun', anyway, 'kase now we kin be gittin' outen dish
yer rheumatizy place. I'll go an' hitch up dat mewel, so to hab him
ready to start when de Cap'n come."
Upon leaving the _Whatnot_, Cap'n Cod had turned to the left, or up
along the river-front of the town; Billy Brackett had plunged directly
into its business portion, intending to keep on until he reached the
hills beyond, on which stood the better class of residences; and Winn
had turned to the right.
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