“All right,” the other went on. “Suppose we put in just one more night here in this anchorage. Then some time tomorrow, no matter what happens, we’ll pull out. How does that suit you, fellows?”
“I’m agreeable,” George immediately replied.
“Suits me from the ground up,” Herb put in.
Three others added their voices after the same fashion, so that in this amiable way the question was settled without the least friction.
“That means another night of guard duty,” mused Nick; whereupon Josh burst out into a harsh laugh.
“Hear him, comrades all!” he remarked. “The poor fellow is worn out with his arduous work. No wonder he drops off into slumber-land when on duty. He is so near a living skeleton that even a poor lone little minnow can pull him and his boat along by the mile. Some of us ought to volunteer to take Buster’s place, and let him get about fifteen hours of sleep. He needs it.”
Nick only grinned, not at all abashed.
“Fine!” he exclaimed. “Suppose you start the ball rolling then, Josh. How long will you carry me on your stretch—half an hour? That would count for something. I think I might gain an ounce of flesh on the strength of that extra sleep.”
“I think you would, all of it,” said Josh. “The trouble with you, Buster, is that you take life too easy. That’s why you get so fat. Just keep on and see where you land pretty soon. Remember Mr. Amos Spofford, will you, and take warning.”
“Now, that’s what I call a mean dig on your part, Josh,” complained Nick. “Talk to me about the strenuous life; did you ever know anybody have a bigger job than I did today, landing that giant muskalunge? When I go in for anything I do it with my whole heart, don’t I boys?”