"Like to know what good it's going to do?" was Midkiff's characteristic grumble.
"Don't let it worry you, Jawn. Come on down and dry off—and see if the others have left us room to stretch out for a sleep. 'Sleep, baby, sleep! Close your sweet eyes!'"
"Huh!" grunted Midkiff again; but he went to bed without further argument.
Rolling mists masked island and sound at daybreak; the crew of the catboat was astir, however, without anybody having rung the rising bell. Four of the Walcott Hall crowd hopped into their bathing suits and prepared for the early plunge.
"This beats waiting in turn at the showers. What say?" cried Red Phillips, at the rail. "Hey! where's Peewee?"
"Why, the little fox!" said Cloudman, sticking his head down the hatchway. "He's rolled up tight in his blanket."
"Oh! Oh!" gasped the auburn-haired youth. "Say not so! Trying to grab another nap, is he?"
"It shouldn't be. Bad for children to sleep too long," the Westerner said.
"Bad? It's awful! Come on! We've got to save him from the effects of such a course."
Rex and Midkiff were struggling to get into their own wet suits, so were behind the others. But little Hicks was not allowed to be last into the rather chilly sound. Red and Applejack brought him on deck in his shirt, struggling and sputtering.