Then one of the fishermen looked toward the pile of nets in the bow of the craft and exclaimed:
“There’s a stowaway on board!”
Ted might have been frightened except that the man laughed so hard that what had happened could not be very serious.
“A stowaway! Where?” cried the man who was steering the boat by the long tiller in the stern.
“There he is—a boy!” was the answer.
By this time Ted had freed himself of the tangle of nets and was standing up. He looked very small in the big boat and amid the big, husky fishermen, some of whom were putting on their yellow oilskin coats, for the spray was now flying over the boat.
“How did you get here?” asked one of the men.
“I—I fell in,” Ted answered.
“Well, be careful you don’t fall out!” grumbled a rather cross-looking fisherman.
“Don’t talk that way,” chided one of his mates. “Don’t frighten the boy. You’ll be all right, little lad,” he went on, as he saw Ted’s lips begin to quiver. “We’ll take you safe back to shore with us. How did you happen to fall in?”