"Not one, my boy. No luck at all this morning."
"Guess you won't catch any 'round here, with all that there fancy rigging."
"Think not? Ah, here we are. Put me ashore. Will a dime apiece do?"
He held out a couple of bits of shining silver as he spoke, but he had already stirred the pride of the crew of the Ark.
"No, thank you," said Quill Sanders. "We're on a voyage of discovery. We won't take pay for any kindnesses we do to the natives we meet."
"You don't say! Voyage of discovery. New World. All that sort of thing. Arctic circle. North Pole. Sandwich Islands."
"No, sir-ree!" exclaimed Mort. "We're bound for Pawg Lake. All the way up the Taponican."
"That's this mighty stream, I suppose, and Pawg Lake is at the mysterious end of it. Boys, it isn't of any manner of use. I'm not a native. Only stopping in the village for a week. You've got to take me on board the—the what's her name?"
"The Ark," said Mort, with much dignity, "and we're not calling for passengers."
"Passengers? Oh no, I'm one of the crew. I'd ship before the mast if there was one. Just let me take those oars and work my watch on deck. Then I'll go below while you take yours."