“Yes, boys, you’ve done a foolish thing, but your mothers will be so glad to see you that they’ll forgive you,” a good-natured sailor observed.
The transfer from the punt to the long-boat was soon made, and then one of the rescuers demanded, “What about this craft? Shall we cast it off, or tow it into harbor for another set of boys to drown in?”
But a practical man, who made it an established principle of his life never to lose anything that came in his way, passed his dictum that the punt must be preserved at all risks.
“Of course this will be a warning to all the boys,” he said, “and it would be a sin to lose a ship-shape craft like this. Just see how well it floated them! No boy is so wrong-headed that he won’t profit by experience.”
So, much to the chagrin of the boys, who now regarded the punt with deadly hatred, it was hitched to the long-boat, and the flotilla set sail for home.
“Speaking of experience,” spoke up a furrow-faced rower, who plied his oars lustily, “I never knew but one boy that profited by experience, and he never did it but once, when he couldn’t help himself, so to speak.”
“What are the details of the particulars, Tom?” asked one.
“Well, the boy went fishing with a tinker, against orders.”
“And he profited—?”