"'Cause if you did, you'd know he's always picking quarrels. He's an 'sistant 'gineer on the Senecy, which I reckon is the boat yer goin' ter jine."
"Yes, I believe she is anchored off here. But will you show us to our room right away, please? We don't wish to keep Mr. Summerville waiting."
The drooping and dejected landlord looked more dismal than ever as he showed the boys to a small room. It did not take them long to don the natty uniforms of junior officers in the United States Navy. While they changed their attire, Herc was roundly lectured by Ned for taking part in the scene in front of the hotel.
"I'm sorry it happened," declared Ned; "Rankin being a petty officer of the Seneca, too, doesn't make it any the easier."
"I ought to have lambasted him with my new sword," muttered Herc truculently.
"And made a bad matter worse."
"I don't see how it would. That fellow needs a good lesson."
"You'll never teach him one in that way. Besides, naval officers don't behave in such a fashion. You must have dignity and self-control."
"Huh! If I'd had foot control instead of self-control, I wouldn't have tumbled down those steps, and then nothing would have happened," grumbled Herc, tenderly patting a bump on the top of his head.