"You didn't cross the Bight? Why not?"
"'Tis rotten from shore t' shore. I'd not try the Bight, sir, the night."
"No?"
"No, sir." The boy was very grave.
"Mm-m."
All this while Doctor Luke had been moving about the surgery in sure haste—packing a waterproof case with little instruments and vials and what-not. And now he got quickly into his boots and jacket, pulled down his coonskin cap, pulled up his sealskin gloves, handed Bad-Weather West's boy over to the family for supper and bed, and was about to close the surgery door upon himself when Billy Topsail interrupted him.
"I say, sir!"
Doctor Luke halted.
"Well, Billy?"