“Have you evah felt san’ paper?”
“Lots of times. Is it as rough as that?”
“Lawdy,” exclaimed Sam. “In compahson wif a sha’k’s skin Ah tell yo’ dat san’ paper am lak velvet.”
“I should say it was rough, then,” laughed Fred. “Doesn’t that hurt?”
“It must,” Grant broke in, “and it ought to be attended to at once.”
“Dat’s nothin’,” said Sam carelessly. “She’ll be all right soon.”
“I know,” Grant protested, “but just look at it bleed.”
“All de bettah. When she bleed lak dat dey’s no chance ob poison.”
“But it ought to be stopped now. Come up by the spring where there’s cold water and let me bathe it for you.”
“Go ahead, Sam,” urged John, looking up and speaking for the first time since he had been brought ashore.