"Well," he drawled, "I guess you ought to know your own likeness."
Frank gasped as he took the paper, for the two portraits at the top of it were of Harry and himself, and underneath them appeared the dog. There was a conspicuous black heading over them.
"The modest salvors of the opium schooner, and their dog," it read.
Beneath this there was about a column dealing with Mr. Oliver's exploits and their own. Frank glanced at parts of it with blank astonishment.
"You never told him all that stuff," he declared, passing it to Harry.
Mr. Oliver intercepted the paper, and his expression hinted at half-disgusted amusement.
"Didn't you know any better than to tell a story of this kind to a newspaper man?" he asked. "Read a little of it!"
Harry's face flushed as he read.
"I didn't tell him half of it," he protested. "Besides, I didn't know what he was."
Mr. Oliver laughed at last; and just then another man got up and made a speech about Mr. Barclay, who rose and looked down the table with a quiet smile.