Pud cleared his throat. ‘Well, now, it’s like this, Harmon,’ he explained. ‘I’m leader of this――this crew, and you ain’t supposed to steal――sack anything, not even a chicken, until I tell you to. Understand?’ Harmon’s face cleared and he nodded vigorously. ‘All right. Now――’ Pud looked longingly at the contents of the fry-pan――‘Now,’ he went on in a failing voice, ‘you’d better fry some bacon. It――it wouldn’t be honest to eat that chicken, would it, Tim?’ Tim shook his head. It wasn’t a decided shake, but it was the best he could do. Harmon voiced incredulity. ‘You mean you-all don’ want no chicken?’ he ejaculated. ‘My golly! How-come you ain’ wantin’ none?’ ‘Because we――because you stole it, Harmon,’ answered Pud sadly. ‘It wouldn’t be right to――’ ‘Why you keep on sayin’ I stole it? Ain’ I done tell you I “pirate” it? Lawsey, how-come you talk so silly?’ ‘Of course,’ observed Tim, his gaze set fixedly on the charred tip of a chicken leg, ‘you and I didn’t steal it, Pud. And it’s dead now, and it seems sort of wasteful to throw it away. Father says it’s sinful to waste things, Pud.’ ‘Yeah, I know,’ assented Pud. ‘Well, maybe it wouldn’t be very wrong if we ate it, just so’s not to let it go to waste. I guess――I guess our consciences oughtn’t to trouble us if we did. Of course, it’s different with Harmon. He oughtn’t to have any because he came by it dishonestly.’ ‘No,’ agreed Tim. ‘Still, if there was some left for him, it wouldn’t be any affair of ours if he ate it. It would be between him and his conscience, I guess.’ ‘Yes, that’s so.’ It was a wonderful chicken. Naturally, having been such a remarkable runner, it was inclined to be stringy and even a bit tough as to its legs, but they had good appetites and they were not restrained by ordinary table etiquette; and the toughest chicken leg that ever ran must yield its meat when you take it in both hands! They gave Harmon a share, although, of course, not the choice parts, and the darky seemed to have settled affairs with his conscience very satisfactorily. At least, he gave every indication of enjoyment, and he did not, as he perhaps deserved to, choke to death on a bone! By nine o’clock they were afloat again, and at half-past had left Bentonburg behind. The river was not so hot as it had been yesterday and voyaging was very pleasant. They chugged between wide fields that swept upward and away to tree-dotted horizons or to comfortable farm buildings, white against the blue sky. Harmon took his first lesson in steering and was visibly thrilled as the boat responded to his pressure on the little brass-bound wheel. In the first enthusiasm he almost ran them aground, and only Pud’s quick action saved the day.