"Wish I could reward you," went on the man. "But I ain't got a dollar all told."
And diving into his capacious pocket he brought to light only a miscellaneous collection of small coins.
"Oh, never mind that," said the boy, coloring a trifle. "I'm glad you're all right."
"So am I—downright glad, and no mistake. As I said afore, my name is Linyard, Doc Linyard, general manager, along with my wife, of the Watch Below, the neatest sailors' lunch-room on West Street, New York. I say neatest acause my wife keeps it. She's a worker, Betty is. Come and see me some time. I won't forget to treat you well."
"Thank you, Mr. Lin—"
"Avast there! Don't tackle no mister to my name," interposed the old sailor. "What's your name?" he continued suddenly.
Richard told him.
"All right, Mr. Dare. I'll remember it, and you too. But don't go for to put a figure-head to my name. Plain Doc Linyard is good enough for such a tough customer as me."
"I'll remember it, Mr—"
"Avast, I say—"