"Oh, by no means," said Furlong. "You're bettaw acquainted with the customs of the countwy than I am."
"Then we'll row back to dinner as fast as we can," said Murphy. "Pull away, my hearties!" and, as he bent to his oars, he began bellowing the Canadian Boat-Song, to drown Andy's roar, and when he howled—
"Our voices keep tune,"
there never was a more practical burlesque upon the words; but as he added—
"Our oars keep time,"
he seemed to have such a pleasure in pulling, and looked so lively and florid, that Furlong, chilled by his inactivity on the water, requested Murtough to let him have an oar, to restore circulation by exercise. Murtough complied; but the novice had not pulled many strokes, before his awkwardness produced that peculiar effect called "catching a crab," and a smart blow upon his chest sent him heels over head under the thwarts of the boat.
"Wha-wha-a-t's that?" gasped Furlong, as he scrambled up again.
"You only caught a crab," said Murtough.
"Good Heaven!" said Furlong, "you don't mean to say there are crabs as well as salmon in the wiver."
"Just as many crabs as salmon," said Murtough; "pull away, my hearty.