"I reckon he must have belonged to the village fire department," put in another.
"I'll bet they practiced putting out fires on his head," came another voice.
It was more than flesh and blood could bear.
Herc arose angrily to his feet, and was beginning a speech full of hot resentment, when the boat, which was by this time under way, gave a sudden lurch.
Herc had been unmindful of the fact that a fresh wind blowing up the North River kicks up quite a sea, and in a second he was sprawling on the bottom of the boat, with a perfect tempest of laughter ringing in his burning ears.
But, as he fell, Herc's heavy form careened against a seaman who was standing upright, scanning the vessel they were approaching. Down crashed the two, with Herc on top. When they rose the nose of the seaman who had fallen under Here's bulky person was bloody, and his eyes inflamed with rage.
"You hayseed-eating swab," he growled, "look here—blood all over my blouse. Now I've got to clean it or get a call down."
"I'm very sorry," said Herc penitently, "I didn't do it on purpose."
"You're a liar, and I'll trim you for it before long."