"Aren't you going out with me to haul those traps?"
"No!" retorted Percy, sourly.
"Suit yourself!" was Lane's brief response.
Percy knew that Budge would rather go without him. He heard him give a whistle as he examined Nemo's leg; the animal cringed and whimpered.
"Poor fellow! Too bad!" sympathized Lane.
The remark was evidently intended for Percy's ears. At least the lad took it so. He felt sorry if Nemo was really hurt. Lane went out, and Percy turned over for another nap. When he next woke it was almost seven and the cabin was empty. He got up and dressed leisurely.
Looking out of the window, he saw Filippo digging clams on the flats across the cove. That meant chowder for dinner, a dish he particularly detested. He made a wry mouth and turned to the larder, but could discover nothing but some cold fish and fried potatoes. The fire had gone out, and he determined to await Filippo's return before breakfasting.
Deliberately scratching a match, he lighted a cigarette, thereby breaking the rule against smoking in the cabin. Then he stretched himself out on his bunk and began reading The Three Musketeers. Filippo returned before he had finished his chapter. The Italian's eyes grew round at the tobacco smoke.
"You know Misser Jim say no smoking!"
"Mister Jim isn't here now. You mind your own business and I'll mind mine. Get me some breakfast, will you?"