The "Swallow" was flying along nicely now, with Dab at the tiller and Dick Lee tending sail, and Dab could listen with all his ears to Ford Foster's account of his sister's tribulations.
"Aint they older and bigger than you?" asked Dabney, as Ford closed his recital. "What can you do with two of 'em?"
"They can't box worth a cent, and I can. Anyhow, I mean to teach them better manners."
"You can box?"
"Will you show me how, when we get back?"
"We can practice all we choose. I've two pair of gloves."
"Hurrah for that! Ease her, Dick! It's blowing pretty fresh. We'll have a tough time tacking home against such a breeze as this. May be it'll change before night."
"Capt'in Dab," calmly remarked Dick, "we's on'y a mile to run."
"Well, what of it?"