He walked around the body, giving vent to muttered exclamations of wonder and satisfaction, and the boys had a chance to study him more closely than they had yet been able to do.
He was a wizened, dried-up little man, not much more than five feet in height. His shoulders were bent with the infirmities of age–they judged him to be over seventy–but his movements were spry, and they had already seen by the way he handled his boat that he was not lacking in dexterity. There was a suspicious redness about his nose that was 160 explained by Lester’s hint about his fondness for a certain black bottle. But his eyes were friendly and free from guile, and the simple cordiality with which he had welcomed them to his scanty fare showed that his heart was kindly.
He found it hard to tear himself away from gloating over the body of the shark–the shark he hated with the hatred of all the members of his calling–but he recalled himself at last to the duties of hospitality.
“Waal, I swan!” he ejaculated. “Here I am wastin’ time on this cantankerous old pirate when I ought ter be hustlin’ around ter get you boys some grub.”
The boys could see a growing perplexity in the old fellow’s kindly face as he tried to think how to feed such a hungry crew as he saw about him.
“Oh, anything will do,” Lester hastened to assure him. “Come along up to the cabin and we’ll pitch in and help.”
They reached the door, and as Mark’s eyes fell upon the crowded table, and as the fragrant odor of the coffee and the other good things assailed his nostrils, he gave vent to an exclamation of astonishment and relief that was lost in the roar of laughter that burst from the boys.
“Waal, I vum!” he exclaimed as soon as he could catch his breath.
“Some surprise party, eh Mark?” asked Lester.
161“Yer could knock me down with a feather,” the old fisherman replied. “An’ me a-rackin’ my old noddle as ter how I was goin’ ter giv’ ye anythin’ but fish.”