Ignoring the protest, George said, "It seems to me it ought to be as easy to adjust the internal workings of Peewee as those of the Black Growler. Perhaps a dose of a similar kind might be good for both." George's face was expressionless and his voice did not betray his purpose of bantering his diminutive friend.
Fred's face flushed an angry red, for Miss Susie Stevens and other members of the club were standing on the dock when the conversation occurred. Her black eyes twinkled with mischief and it was manifest that she was enjoying the visit of the boys.
"I think," said Grant positively, "that we had better take Sam Hodge with us. We ought to arrive at your grandfather's place by night, Fred, and he can come back by train."
"That's right. That's right," spoke up John quickly. "I had to steer the Black Growler most of the time yesterday and my arms are lame."
"All the length of them?" asked George. "Why, think when John has a pain how long he must have it."
John turned quickly upon his tormentor as he said, "That's the thirteenth time I have heard you get off that old joke. You mustn't take him too seriously, Miss Susie," he added, turning to the girl, who was laughing at George 's suggestion. "You know what his nickname is, don't you?"
"No, I cannot say that I do," replied Miss Susie.
"Well, we call him Pop."
"Why?" she inquired.
"Because he's the papa of his country. He is named for George Washington, who is the Father of his Country, but the name doesn't go very far."