“Hold up, Bob,” interposed Nelson. “It’s only Tommy, and he isn’t accountable for what he does, you know. Where the dickens have you been, Tommy, and what are you doing here? How did you happen to find us?”
“I’ll tell you all about it in a minute,” answered Tom. “But I’ve got to get warm first. I’m wet through and beastly cold. If you think Bob isn’t dangerous I’d like to get to that fire.”
“Oh, Bob won’t eat you,” answered Nelson. “Come on and get dry. Great Scott, Tommy, I should say you were wet! Give me that blanket and I’ll hang it up here over the bellows. You’d better take those shoes off, too; if they are shoes, that is; they look like gobs of mud.”
Tom backed up to the fire and beamed humorously at Bob.
“You’re an awful little ass, Tommy,” said Bob finally, suppressing a smile. “Where have you been?”
“Wait a bit,” Nelson interrupted. “Here’s my oilskin, Tommy. Take off your coat and trousers and slip this on. You’ll get dry a heap quicker.”
Tom followed instructions and then, with his back to the fire, which Nelson replenished with the remains of the soap box, and his hands in the pockets of the oilskin coat, he explained.
“I’ll tell you the story of my wanderings,” began Tom. “When I woke up on the beach—Say, where’s Dan?” he interrupted himself to ask wonderingly. Nelson told him of that youth’s sudden resolution and departure and Tom continued. “Well, I suppose it was Dan that thought up that joke on me. It was awfully smart—I don’t think!”
“I was afraid you wouldn’t appreciate it,” said Bob regretfully.
“You wait till I get him!” threatened Tom. “Well, when I woke up the launch was gone and the fog was so thick I could kick holes in it. I thought you fellows had gone around the point and so I started after you. But I got into the woods and lost my way; fooled around there pretty near half an hour, I guess. Finally I found my way out and trailed across a turnip patch, or cauliflower grove, or something, and came to a golf course. I had a lovely time there. Strolled all over it, I guess, and saw all the sights—which weren’t very many, after all, on account of the fog. And I got very soppy and beastly hungry. If I’d met a caddy it would have been all up with him then and there; I’d have picked his little bones quite clean. But I didn’t meet a soul—except the flag at the fourteenth hole, and that was made of tin and couldn’t be eaten. After a while, I don’t know how long, I heard music. Thought first I’d died and got to heaven; but I hadn’t. I’d only got to the Seamont Inn.”