"'Faith and I don't know,' I said. 'They remar-rked that the owner—Hivin bless him!—had niver forbidden thim to use it.'
"'Thin we must pay the rint of it for the night,' says he. 'But the bhoys will get only a dollar apiece." Where are they?'
"'They disappeared whin the boat was fast, sir,' says I. 'I think they wint home. 'Tis bedtime.'
"'D'ye know where the patrol-leader lives?' he demands.
"So we walked up the hill in the darkness and wind till we reached the house of me bould Tad. A knock at the door brought the missus, with a towel on her ar-rm. I pushed in. 'We've come to see yer son,' says I.
"We stepped in and saw the young sprig be the fire, on a chair, with his feet in a bowl of watther and musthard. He was for runnin' whin he saw us, but cudn't for the lack of clothes. So he scowled at us. 'This is the commander of the scouts,' I says, inthroducin' me tall companion. 'And here's yer five dollars to put with yer dollar and six bits into the little bank, so's yez can all of yez be second-class scouts.'
"'We can't take the money,' says he, with a terrible growl. 'The oath forbids us to take money for savin' life.'
"'Don't be a hero,' I rebukes him. 'Ye're only a small bhoy in his undherclothes with yer feet in hot watther and musthard. No hero was ever in such a predicament. This gintleman will infor-rm ye about the money.'
"Me bould companion looked at the slip of a lad and said sharply: 'Report to me to-morrow morning with yer patrol at sivin o'clock to be musthered in.'
"With that we mar-rched out into the stor-rm and back to the hotel, where I wint to slape like a bhoy mesilf—me that was sixty-four me last birthday and niver thought to make a fool of mesilf with a gang of bhoys and a gasoline engine—and that on a holiday!"