"And I am going to get the doctor. Oh no, come to think of it, these men will get him for that little fellow's folks--the one we picked up, you know."
"We? You, rather. You did first-rate. Well, who was that little shaver?"
"I heard somebody call him Bartie. That's for Bartholomew, I guess."
"Oh, it's 'Mew,'" explained Dab. "Bartholo*mew*; and they say 'Mew' for short--'Little Mew.'"
"His face looked like a kitten's there in the water," said Dick, "and he mewed pitifully. I've heard of him. Sort of a slim thing. Well, may sound sort of heartless, but I guess some folks would say he is hardly worth the saving. Oh, you're off, are you?"
"Yes," said one of the two fishermen who were now pushing their boat off from shore. "We must get to town with our fish as soon as we can."
"Well, friends, I am much obliged to you," said Dick Pray.
"So am I! so am I!" said several others.
"Count me in too," exclaimed Dave Fletcher. "Might not have been here without you.--Give 'em three cheers, boys!"
Amid the huzzahs echoing over the waters, the fishermen, smiling and bowing, rowed off.