"You're not much of a fish, Mr. Squibb," Kingdon said, smiling at the man cheerfully. "You'd ought to do your sailing in a shallow spot."
"And you ought to do your smoking ashore," advised Midkiff. "What's the idea of carrying a lighted cigarette near your gas tank?"
"It leaked," said Enos feebly.
"What leaked? The cigarette?" chuckled Red.
"There's a leak somewhere—no fear," Kingdon said with grimness. "Any grown human being who would smoke one of those things—and near gasoline—Well! You want to have a care, Squibb."
"Quibb," faintly corrected the constable.
"Is it your launch?" Cloudman asked.
"Yes," Enos said gloomily. "And I guess 'twon't be wuth much. Oh! I'm jest as sore as a bile where I was burned."
"Gosh!" drawled Phillips. "You're like the man that tried to commit suicide. You was somewhat undecided whether to burn or drown, I s'pose."
"No laffin' matter," whined Enos.