"Why, of course you can. Come along."
They explored the great mail steamer thoroughly—meeting, on their tour, the captain himself, who took them over his quarters and up on the towering bridge. Behind Dick's back he asked Mr. Lester in an undertone:
"Is that the small boy who's been diving off the Moondarra?"
"Yes, that's the culprit," Mr. Lester answered in some surprise. "How did you know?"
"Why, there's half a column about him in the Perth morning papers."
"Good gracious!" ejaculated Mr. Lester. "I trust he won't hear about it."
"Well, you ought to be proud," said the captain severely. "If I had a kid like that——"
"I'm proud enough," said John Lester. "But I don't make a song about it to Dick. He takes it as the most ordinary thing—only beastly cold!" He shuddered. "Good Lord—when I think how nearly I might never have seen him again!"
"Yes," said the captain, staring at Dick. "Great kid. Rough on his mother, too—paper said she was looking on." He opened a cupboard and solemnly presented Dick with a little ebony elephant. "There's an Indian beastie, for luck," he said. "You can teach him to swim——" At which Dick turned scarlet, and fled, cutting short his thanks. He had hoped to leave such annoying reminders on the Moondarra.
But there was a more substantial reminder in store for him that night, when he was dressing for dinner in the hotel. A tap on his door heralded Bobby Warner, very pink and important, bearing a little parcel.