“My goodness!” exclaimed the strange youth, sticking out his hand to grab Whistler’s. “And your father, Dr. Morgan, and mine went to college together. That’s what brought us up to Seacove. Sure! My mother wasn’t well. We all got fat and sassy up there. I declare I’m glad to see you, Phil Morgan!”
“Me long lost brother!” whispered Frenchy to the others. “Have you still got the strawberry mark upon your arm?”
But Al Torrance was quite as serious as Whistler and the newly-introduced George Belding.
“Say, fellows,” Al said, “if he’s going to be one of us on the old destroyer, we’ve got to help him out of this mess.”
“Go ahead! How?” demanded Ikey.
Al produced a pocketknife which he opened quickly. It had a long and sharp blade. He approached the snoring giant on the bank.
“Oi Oi!” gasped Ikey Rosenmeyer. “Never mind! Don’t kill him in cold blood. Remember, Torry, it’s Germans we’re fightin’, not these Britishers.”
“What are you going to do?” demanded Belding.
“Cut your collar away,” said Torrance. “That’s about all you can do. If he wants to hang on to the collar, let him.”
“It’ll spoil his shirt,” objected Ikey.