“Oh, yes, we know that,” said Irv, with a touch of irritation in his voice, “but you know I meant—”
“Come, Irv, no quarrelling!” said Will Moreraud. “You’re tired and cross, but so are the rest of us.”
“I own up, and beg pardon,” said Irv, regaining his good nature by an effort, but instantly. “Phil, may I take time for a cold plunge before you assign me to my next duty?”
“Certainly,” said Phil. “And I’ll take one with you. Come, boys, we’ll all be the better for the shock of a shockingly cold bath. Jump in, all of you!”
And they all did, for, to the surprise of every one, Ed leaped overboard with them and swam twice around the boat before coming out of the very cold water and into the still colder air.
“Ed’s getting well, Phil,” said Irv.
“Yes,” said Phil, as he watched his brother rubbing himself down. “Two weeks ago he would have come out of that water shivering as if with an ague, and the color of a table-cloth. Now look at him! He’s as red as a boiled lobster, and he’s actually laughing as he rubs the skin off with that piece of sanded tarpaulin that he has mistaken for a Turkish towel. Here, Ed, take a towel, or would you rather have some sandpaper or a rasp?”
“Thanks, old fellow,” said Ed, who had of course heard all the remarks concerning himself, “but this cloth feels good. I believe I am getting better. I’ve quit ‘barking’ anyhow.”
“That’s so,” said Irv. “You haven’t dared utter a cough since that morning when The Last of the Flatboats tried to make the last of herself by quitting the river and coming off on this little picnic in the Mississippi swamps.”
“If you young gentlemen have quite finished your discussion of past happenings, and are ready to give attention to present exigencies,” said Phil, in that mocking tone which he sometimes playfully adopted, “you’ll please put your clothes on and report for duty in the hold, where there’s some important work to be done. It’s your turn at the pump, Constant. Get thee to thy task, and don’t forget to remind me when your time’s up.