“Glad to see you, sir. Nice morning for a row. Give’s your hand, sir. Mine looks mucky, but it don’t come off. It’s only tar.”
“I can get down, thank you,” said Arthur haughtily, and he began to descend the perpendicular steps to where the boat slowly rose and fell, some six feet below.
But though Arthur descended backwards like a bear, it was without that animal’s deliberate caution. He wanted experience too, and the knowledge that the steps, that were washed by every tide, were covered with a peculiar green weedy growth that was very slippery. He was in a hurry lest he should be helped—aid being exceedingly offensive to his dignity, and the consequence was, that when he was half-way down there was a slip and a bang, caused by Arthur finishing his descent most rapidly, and going down in a sitting position upon the bottom of the boat.
“I say,” said Josh, “if that had been your foots you’d ha’ gone through.”
Arthur leaped up red as a turkey-cock, and in answer to his father’s inquiry whether he was hurt, shook his head violently.
“Don’t laugh, Will, don’t look at him,” said Dick, stifling his own mirth and turning his back, pretending to draw Will’s attention to the fishing cord and hooks he had bought.
“All right, Master Dick!” said Will cordially; and he began to examine the hooks; but Arthur could see through the device and, kindly as it was meant, he chafed all the more. In fact, he had hurt himself a good deal, but his dignity was injured more.
“Yes, they’re the best,” said Will; “but I’ve got a whiffing-line ready, and some bait, and laid it for you in the stern. I thought you’d like to fish.”
“So I should,” cried Dick, looking his thanks, and thinking what a frank, manly-looking fellow his new companion was; “but we must let my brother fish to-day. He’ll pretend that he don’t care for it, but he wants to try horribly, and you must coax him a bit. Then he will.”
“What’s the use of begging him?” said Will, who was rather taken aback.