“Does he mind?” pursued the girl on the shore.
“Oh, yes,” said Tess. “He’ll sit up and beg—and shakes hands—and lies down and rolls over—and——”
“Say! those tricks won’t help you any,” cried the other. “Can you make him swim ashore here?”
“Why—ee—I don’t know,” stammered Tess.
“We wouldn’t want to let you have Tom Jonah,” Dorothy hastened to explain.
“Goodness knows, I don’t want him,” said the big girl, still tartly. “But if he can swim ashore with the end of that rope you have coiled there in the bow of your boat, tied to his collar, he may be of some use.”
“Oh, yes!” cried Tess, scrambling toward the bow at once.
“See that the other end is fast to your boat,” commanded the girl on the island.
It was. Tess quickly knotted the free end of the long painter to Tom Jonah’s collar.
“Now send him ashore, child!” cried the big girl.