“Well, we always stand up for the under dog; and just now Jimmy’s in that position,” continued Josh.
“Yes,” spoke up George, encouragingly, “and when you get there, Nick, as you may sooner or later, you’ll see how gladly we’ll all give you our sympathy, eh, boys?”
Nick refused to be comforted by the prospect.
“Hey! Jack,” he said, turning to the skipper of the Tramp, who seemed to be bending over his motor, as if about to turn his engine; for a sudden idea had come into his head, “is a porpoise a real fish, now?”
“Whatever makes you ask that?” demanded Herb.
“Oh! I want to know, that’s all,” replied Nick, coolly. “That Jimmy tries to just throw his old net over anything that creeps, swims or walks, and call it a fish. He tried it on us with his blessed old alligator, you remember, fellers; then, when we wouldn’t stand for that, don’t you know how he tried to hook up one of the sea cows they call a manatee, and make us take that? Now he’s after a porpoise; and if he keeps on he’d grab a hippopotamus, and try to bluff us at that. Anything that goes in water answers for Jimmy.”
“Well, if he gets a porpoise, he’s got a fish without any reason to kick over the traces, Nick, and don’t you forget that,” George declared.
“Say, where you going, Jack?” demanded Nick, suspiciously.
“Why, I thought I’d better take a little spin out there, to keep an eye on Jimmy,” replied the other.
“What for? You don’t think of lending him a hand, I hope? Remember, the rules of the game knocks all that sort of thing on the head,” Nick protested, vigorously.