“The tailor said he’d put in something on his own account for Fluff. Try it on and send him down.”
The crew were wholly at a loss to understand the meaning of this brief conversation until the dog came down-stairs at full speed, yelping and barking as if in the highest state of excitement and pleasure.
A roar of laughter burst from the men when the little fellow sat up on his tail in the centre of the room, as if asking that he be admired. Over his silken white hair was strapped a tiny, blue broadcloth blanket, on the two rear corners of which was worked in white silk the letters “L. S. S.” so disposed as to form a fanciful monogram.
“Three cheers for No. 9!” Joe Cushing cried, and this was responded to with such good-will that Fluff hurriedly ran back to his master, thoroughly frightened by the noisy demonstration.
“Don’t he look great?” Benny cried, and Tom Downey replied with a laugh:
“Indeed he does, lad; but you needn’t stay up there admiring him, for we’re more anxious to see your rig.”
Then, moving slowly and shyly, as if almost ashamed of his fine feathers, Benny made his appearance on the stairs, and it was an exclamation of genuine admiration with which he was greeted. The little fellow looked manly in the neatly fitting suit of blue, bedecked with brass buttons, and very proud withal, for, although he considered himself a member of the crew, the fact had never seemed so real to him as at this moment when he was attired as a life saver.
The deep crimson blood came into his cheeks as he stood before the men, in obedience to orders, turning here and there as one or the other dictated, and listening all the while to words of praise and genuine admiration.
“It’s all right, No. 8,” Sam Hardy said at length. “I was almost afraid that tailor might rig you out like a jumping-jack, with a lot of folderols that had no place on a life saver’s uniform; but he’s gone straight with the orders I gave him, an’ the job couldn’t be improved on.”
“Don’t forget that you’re to go into town with me when next I have leave of absence,” Joe Cushing cried, and then some one called attention to Fluff, who was sitting on the topmost step, still clad in uniform, wagging his tail vigorously as if asking whether it would be safe for him to venture down.