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"Gee, Fletch, don't you wish you had a boat like that with all the gasoline to run her?" John's brown eyes grew dreamy. "Just don't you, though! We could ride down the canal out in the Illinois River and down the Mississippi to St. Louis. No staying after school, no 'rithmetic lessons, no lawns to cut or front porches to wash on Saturdays.
They took a launch all the way down the river from Lake Michigan by themselves. We'd be it all the time we were there." Silvey, under the spell of the alluring picture, let his gaze roam dreamily around until it lighted upon an excited group down the pier. He sprang to his feet energetically. "Fletch! Look! A man drowned, maybe. Come on quick!" Such alluring possibilities may come true in a city.
Then the fun began. "Going to be good?" Silvey looked desperately up at the handful of snow held high above his head. "Look, here, Fletch don't you wash my face, don't you " "Going to be good?" asked John again. His answer was a wrench for freedom. Thud, came a soft mass down on Bill's nose and open mouth. He spluttered and rolled over desperately, trying to throw John from his vantage point.
"Don't you wish you could find worms like he does, Fletch?" Once more they resumed their journey lakewards, breaking into the inevitable dogtrot as the long, dark pier came in sight. At the land end, John stooped to pick up a few sun-dried minnows which lay on a plank, and a little farther on Silvey grabbed eagerly at an earth-filled tomato can.
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