Every minute or two he shouted at the top of his voice, "Oh, Lewston!" Very soon he heard some one shouting in reply, and he recognized Lewston's voice.

It seemed to come from the creek.
Thereupon, Harry made his way through the trees and soon caught sight of the old colored man.

He was in a boat, poling his way along in the shallow water as close to dry land as the woods allowed him, and sometimes, where the trees were wide apart, sending the boat right between some of their tall trunks.
"Hello, Lewston," cried Harry, running as near as he could go without getting his shoes wet, for the water ran up quite a distance among the trees in some places.

"What are you about?
Where did you get that boat?
I want a boat." "Dat's jist what I thought, Mah'sr Harry," said Lewston, still poling away as hard as he could.

"I know de compuny'd want to git ober de creek, an' I jist went up to Hiram Anderson's and borrowed his ole boat.
Ise been a-bailing her out all de mornin'." "You're a trump, Lewston," said Harry.