CHAPTER XIV
Bruin
"We know where we are now, at any rate," commented Mr. Armitage. "True we are on the wrong side of the Gunfleet, but the lighthouse enables us to fix our position."
"How did we get so far out of our course?" inquired Mr. Jackson.
"My mistake, I suppose," replied the Scoutmaster. "I must have underrated the strength of the young flood, and it set us too far to the west'ard. I can see the N.E. Gunfleet now. Keep that buoy on your starboard hand, Hepburn. Take a compass-bearing in case the mist increases again."
Meanwhile Peter Stratton, having completed his toilet, was meditatively contemplating the pup for which he had risked his life. The little animal, having had a good feed of bread soaked in condensed milk, was sitting up and looking, with his head turned slightly on one side, at his rescuer.
"You are a funny pup," declared the Patrol-leader.
The pup admitted the impeachment by giving a series of short, sharp barks and wagging his stumpy tail.
He was about two months old. His coat was black with the exception of a tuft of white hair on his chin and a white patch on his chest. His hair was fairly long and silky, his nose long and straight, his paws broad. When he walked he moved with a bear-like gait.
"What sort of animal is he, sir?" asked Peter.