‘Gosh!’ exploded Pud. ‘How long’s that going to take, I’d like to know. You――you’re a rotten pirate!’ ‘I never said I was a pirate,’ replied Tim equably. ‘But if father comes home and finds I haven’t cut the grass he will be madder’n a hornet.’ ‘That’s all right. When we come back I’ll get our mower and help you.’ Tim considered and finally agreed, and a minute later they were going side by side along Arundel Street. ‘How’d your father come to say you could do it?’ asked Tim. ‘He and ma think I ought to be outdoors more,’ replied Pud evasively. Tim was about to seek further enlightenment when Pud suddenly stopped short. ‘Gee!’ he exclaimed. ‘There’s Harmon Johnson!’ ‘What of it?’ demanded Tim, pulling away from his friend’s clutching fingers. ‘What of it! Why, don’t you see?’ Pud’s voice, lowered to a hoarse whisper, was exultant. ‘Pirates always have a black man to cook for ’em. We’ll get Harmon to come along!’ ‘No, we won’t either! I’m not going to sleep with any negro!’ ‘Who’s asking you to sleep with him?’ inquired Pud impatiently. ‘He can sleep outside, can’t he? And he can do all the cooking and wash the dishes and――and everything.’ ‘How do you know he can cook?’ ‘All colored folks can cook. Anyway, I guess he can do it as well as you or I can.’ ‘Yes, that’s so.’ The object of their remarks approached unhurriedly. He was a year younger than Pud and Tim, but he looked older. He was very black, with a round and solemn countenance and a broad-shouldered, sturdy body. His father worked in the chair factory and his mother was locally famed as a laundress of more than ordinary skill. They lived in Logtown, the community of cabins clustered along the nearer bank of Town Creek. Harmon when not in school worked variously as delivery boy, messenger, assistant washer at Floyd’s Garage and chore-boy for any one who required his services. Just now, shuffling along on dusty bare feet, he appeared to be out of employment. ‘Hello, Harmon,’ greeted Pud genially. ‘Hello,’ returned Harmon, coming to a halt in front of them and resting a gravely questioning gaze on Pud. ‘Say, Harmon, want to go on a cruise in a motor-boat with us?’ Harmon nodded unemotionally. He didn’t know what Pud meant, but it sounded as though there might be a quarter or maybe a half-dollar in it. ‘When you-all want me to do it?’ he inquired. ‘We’re going to start next Monday,’ replied Pud importantly. Harmon nodded again and started on. ‘I reckon I can ’tend to it for you,’ he assured them. ‘I usually gets half a dollar,’ he added. ‘Hold on! You don’t understand, Harmon. You――you don’t get anything for it.’ ‘How-come?’ Harmon looked slightly derisive. Pud, assisted by Tim, explained at length and with great detail that this was not a business matter, that, on the contrary, they were proposing to allow Harmon to share in a whole week of idle enjoyment, with plenty to eat and nothing to do――much.