We'll let up on him till we get him safe to Grantley." "Then we'll fix him." They had plots and plans enough to talk about; but neither they, nor any of the boys they named, nor any of the other boys they did not name, had the least idea of what the future really had in store for them.

Dab Kinzer and Ford Foster, in particular, had no idea that the world contained such a place as Grantley, or such a landlady as Mrs.Myers.
They had as little suspicion of them as they had had of finding Annie Foster in the sitting-room that day, when they walked in with their famous strings of fish.
Ford kissed his sister, but that operation hardly checked him for an instant in his voluble narrative of the stirring events of his first morning on the bay.

There was really little for anybody else to do but to listen, and it was worth hearing.
There was no sort of interruption on the part of the audience; but the moment Ford paused for breath his mother said,-- "Are you sure the black boy was not hurt, Ford ?" "Hurt, mother?
Why, he seems to be a kind of black-fish.

The rest all know him, and they went right past my hook to his, all the while." "Dear me!" exclaimed Mrs.Foster: "I forgot.

Annie, this is Ford's friend Dabney Kinzer, our neighbor." "Won't you shake hands with me, Mr.Kinzer ?" said Annie, with a malicious twinkle of fun in her merry blue eyes.
Poor Dabney! He had been in quite a "state of mind" for at least three minutes; but he would hardly have been his own mother's son if he had let himself be entirely "posed." Up rose his long right arm, with the heavy string of fish at the end of it; and Annie's fun broke out into a musical laugh, just as her brother exclaimed,-- "There now, I'd like to see the other boy of your size can do that.