here. See. The planking is a little sprung and it opened up this here crack. Water run out of her real good right at that place.”
“Isn’t that a little wide to calk?”
Jake reached under the boat and picked up a thin piece of wood off the crossbar of the cradle. “I whittled this piece out and it seems to fit okay. I was going to soak it good with waterproof glue and pound it in there, but I didn’t get around to it. I guess you could handle that okay. I’ll show you where the glue pot is, Sam. Now, I want to see you kids turn out some work today. No runnin’ off like the last time, Bucky. You sand good and you’ll raise yourself a crop of muscle. You bring old Marilyn along to help you? … What’s the matter? I say something wrong?”
“Let’s go get that glue,” Sam said. On the way up to the shed he told Jake about the dog.
Jake spat accurately at an empty oil drum. “Take a special mean kind of son of a bitch to poison a dog.”
“I know.”
“There was a fella here before your time, when my daddy was alive. Most folks say fish got no feelings. Cold blood and all. But he used to clean his fish here, and he’d take them alive out of the bait well and scale ’em and fillet ’em still wiggling. Seemed to get a kick out of it. We run him off the place finally. Lost a bait customer. Some people got a mean streak all right. It’s surely hell on those kids. That wasn’t much of a dog for fight, but she sure liked friends. Here’s the glue. Let me get that top for you. Use this here rubber mallet and don’t try to get it in too fast. Little taps, and keep it even. Don Langly’s setter bitch had another litter couple of weeks ago. She jumped the fence again. Don thinks it was a chow dog got to her this time, but those pups are sure cute. He’s trying to find homes for them for when they’re weaned.”
“Thanks, Jake. But maybe later on.”
“Sometimes it’s good to get another one right away. I’d say a little more glue. Slop it on good. You can wipe off what squeezes out.”
After the family had watched him tap the whittled wedge into place, Sam apportioned the work. They all began to work, using the sanding blocks. The sun was hot and it was tiring work. After a half hour Sam took off his shirt and hung it on a sawhorse. The slight breeze off the lake cooled the perspiration on his lean back. Bucky was unexpectedly solemn and diligent.
When Gil Burman came by and stopped, Sam used it as an excuse to call a break. Jamie and Bucky raced off with a dollar to buy two beers and three Cokes from Jake.
“You got this crew organized,” Gil said. Gil was a forty-year-old vice-president of the New Essex Bank and Trust Company. He had moved out to Harper a year ago. He was a big man, prematurely gray. His wife was a vivacious and rattle-brained redhead. Sam and Carol liked and enjoyed Gil and Betty.
“He’s a whip snapper,” Carol said.
“I lost my helpers on account of the pram race this afternoon. They’re getting organized.”
“Does the
Jungle Queen
need work?”
“Does she ever not need it? Dry rot in the dashboard this time. Damn old clunker. Why we keep her, I’ll never know. Carol, did Betty get in touch with you yet about next Friday?”
“No, not yet.”
“A big old Burman soiree, kids. Cindered steaks in the back yard. An extensive clobbering on Martinis. Drunken conversation and family battles afterward. We have to do it for a lot of sordid types, and so we need some of our friends around to improve the situation.”
Carol glanced at Sam and then said to Gil, “We’d love to come. But there may be a hitch. I might have to be out of town. I could let Betty know later in the week?”
“Right up until kickoff. It’s a big party.”
The boys came back with the Cokes and beer. Sam went off to one side to talk business with Gil. The bank acted as trustee on many of the estates represented by Dorrity, Stetch and Bowden. As they talked, Sam looked idly at hisfamily.
“Isn’t that a little wide to calk?”
Jake reached under the boat and picked up a thin piece of wood off the crossbar of the cradle. “I whittled this piece out and it seems to fit okay. I was going to soak it good with waterproof glue and pound it in there, but I didn’t get around to it. I guess you could handle that okay. I’ll show you where the glue pot is, Sam. Now, I want to see you kids turn out some work today. No runnin’ off like the last time, Bucky. You sand good and you’ll raise yourself a crop of muscle. You bring old Marilyn along to help you? … What’s the matter? I say something wrong?”
“Let’s go get that glue,” Sam said. On the way up to the shed he told Jake about the dog.
Jake spat accurately at an empty oil drum. “Take a special mean kind of son of a bitch to poison a dog.”
“I know.”
“There was a fella here before your time, when my daddy was alive. Most folks say fish got no feelings. Cold blood and all. But he used to clean his fish here, and he’d take them alive out of the bait well and scale ’em and fillet ’em still wiggling. Seemed to get a kick out of it. We run him off the place finally. Lost a bait customer. Some people got a mean streak all right. It’s surely hell on those kids. That wasn’t much of a dog for fight, but she sure liked friends. Here’s the glue. Let me get that top for you. Use this here rubber mallet and don’t try to get it in too fast. Little taps, and keep it even. Don Langly’s setter bitch had another litter couple of weeks ago. She jumped the fence again. Don thinks it was a chow dog got to her this time, but those pups are sure cute. He’s trying to find homes for them for when they’re weaned.”
“Thanks, Jake. But maybe later on.”
“Sometimes it’s good to get another one right away. I’d say a little more glue. Slop it on good. You can wipe off what squeezes out.”
After the family had watched him tap the whittled wedge into place, Sam apportioned the work. They all began to work, using the sanding blocks. The sun was hot and it was tiring work. After a half hour Sam took off his shirt and hung it on a sawhorse. The slight breeze off the lake cooled the perspiration on his lean back. Bucky was unexpectedly solemn and diligent.
When Gil Burman came by and stopped, Sam used it as an excuse to call a break. Jamie and Bucky raced off with a dollar to buy two beers and three Cokes from Jake.
“You got this crew organized,” Gil said. Gil was a forty-year-old vice-president of the New Essex Bank and Trust Company. He had moved out to Harper a year ago. He was a big man, prematurely gray. His wife was a vivacious and rattle-brained redhead. Sam and Carol liked and enjoyed Gil and Betty.
“He’s a whip snapper,” Carol said.
“I lost my helpers on account of the pram race this afternoon. They’re getting organized.”
“Does the
Jungle Queen
need work?”
“Does she ever not need it? Dry rot in the dashboard this time. Damn old clunker. Why we keep her, I’ll never know. Carol, did Betty get in touch with you yet about next Friday?”
“No, not yet.”
“A big old Burman soiree, kids. Cindered steaks in the back yard. An extensive clobbering on Martinis. Drunken conversation and family battles afterward. We have to do it for a lot of sordid types, and so we need some of our friends around to improve the situation.”
Carol glanced at Sam and then said to Gil, “We’d love to come. But there may be a hitch. I might have to be out of town. I could let Betty know later in the week?”
“Right up until kickoff. It’s a big party.”
The boys came back with the Cokes and beer. Sam went off to one side to talk business with Gil. The bank acted as trustee on many of the estates represented by Dorrity, Stetch and Bowden. As they talked, Sam looked idly at hisfamily.
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