“Just about dead,” said Jack. “Suppose you tow us across to Herrick’s Cove. We’ll all take a hand at the oars.”
Bill Glass tipped his hat back and scratched his head reflectively, looking across at the mainland. Finally, “Seems to me you could have rowed that launch across there before this,” he said. “Got oars, I cal’ate, ain’t ye?”
“The old scoundrel!” fumed Hal, none too quietly. “The old hypocrite!”
“No, we lost our oars,” answered Jack patiently. “Someone took them out of the launch, we think, night before last. So I guess unless you’ll give us a tow we’ll have to stay here.”
“Lost your oars, eh? I want to know! Well, mates, I’d like to take ye across, but it’s a long way over there and I be out fishin’. Tell ye what I’ll do, though. After I get through fishin’ I’ll come back here for ye. Time’s money to a poor man like I be, mates.”
“We’ll pay you for your time and trouble,” said Jack. “We’ll give you two dollars to tow the launch across, and we’ll help row. How’s that?”
“I’d like mighty well to oblige ye,” replied Bill Glass in his rumbling voice, “but two dollars won’t pay me for a day’s fishin’ lost, now will it? I leave it to you, mates.” He dipped his oars in the water. “Just ye wait till I be through fishin’ an’ I’ll come and fetch ye, sure as sure.”
“Why, you old—” began Hal. But Bee kicked him into silence.
“Well, we’ll call it three dollars, then,” returned Jack easily. “That’s more than you’ll make fishing, I guess.”