"I thought you would, though I have seen people who didn't like it. Some folks are fussy—here, my man," turning to the boatman, "here is the fifty cents I promised you if you would set me on board here. I shan't want you any more. You may go."
"Hold on," came firmly from Frank, who also spoke to the man in the dory. "I think Mr. Cooler is mistaken. He will want you—to take him ashore again."
"Oh, no—no, indeed," chuckled Mr. Cooler, pleasantly. "You are quite wrong, young man. I am going to Devil Island with you."
"The—the—dickens you are?" exclaimed Frank. He
came near using another word in the place of "dickens," for now he was literally astounded.
"Oh, yes," nodded the queer old man, still laughing. "I won't be a bit of bother. In fact, you will find me mighty jolly company. Tickle me gently, and I am more fun than a variety show. I have been paid in my day to travel around with folks just to amuse them. I'm sure death to the blues, and I am better than all the doctor's medicine you ever took."
"Well, I haven't the blues, and I am not in need of medicine."
"Say you so? You're in luck. You do look cheerful and healthy, that's a fact."
"But I have some curiosity."
"Glad to know you are troubled by something."