"Oh, I gave 'em an earful," Whistler agreed, and puckered his lips again.
"Come on and get in," ordered Torry impatiently. "Pa's got to use the car this afternoon. But he says we can have it to run over to Elmvale in, if we want."
"Where are Frenchy and Ikey?" Whistler broke off in his tune again to ask.
"Going to wait for us down on High Street—and Seven Knott, too."
"Did Hansie say he'd go?" cried the other sailor boy. "Bet he's sore as he can be because he's not with the Colodia and Lieutenant Lang."
"He'd never 've taken this furlough, he says, if his mother hadn't begged so hard. Did you ever see a garby so stuck on a gold stripe as Seven Knott is on Lieutenant Commander Lang?" said Torry, rather scornfully.
"I don't know. Mr. Lang has been a good friend to Hans Hertig. This is his second hitch under Mr. Lang," Whistler said.
"Wonder if we'll enlist a second time, too, Whistler."
"Bet you!" was the succinct reply.
The car started under Torry's careful guidance, and they quickly whisked around the corner into the main street of Seacove, the small port in which the chums had been born and had lived all their lives until they had enlisted as seamen apprentices in the Navy not many months before.