There was a hail from the crew of the Duchess. Again the sharp bark of a dog sounded.
Purt leaped to his feet. He glared down upon the approaching motorboat. Then he glanced around helplessly, as though tempted to run.
The Barnacle was fixed on his tail in the bow of the approaching boat, barking for all he was worth! 132
“Hi, Purt!” yelled Lance, standing up in the cockpit of the Duchess and bawling the news. “Here’s your canine friend!”
Purt fairly groaned. Then he got mad and forgetting the girls were present, he blackguarded the jokers in the launch wrathfully.
“Oh, hush-aby! hush-aby, sonny!” begged Bobby. “You wouldn’t do all that to Lance and poor little Reddy—would you really?”
“I’ll get square with them!” stammered the dude, “and I’ll kill that dog.”
“Don’t you bite him,” warned Short and Long, “for if you do right now he will sure have the hydrophobia. Take it easy, Purt—cool and easy.”
But the dude could not. The very sight of that laughing, ragged-coated dog made his blood boil. He hunted a club with which to meet the brute when he landed.
But Lance explained about the Barnacle before the Duchess came close enough for them to land.