Page:Cruise of the Dry Dock.djvu/137

 “I don't care nothing about that dull English crew.” This strange fellow's tone carried in it an illiterate man's undying resentment.

“Since you feel that way,” panted Madden at last, “I think I ought to tell you—he took the medicine chest,” Leonard nodded at the finely carved motionless face that lay on the float before them.

“Him!” gasped Greer.

Leonard nodded. “He wanted the alcohol in it.”

“And you call him a gentleman?”

Leonard nodded again. “Somehow I still call him a gentleman. He's hurt, sick, bruised, but he's a gentleman.”

“Well I don't!”

At that moment, the buoy under Caradoc's head bumped into a wooden wall and upset their swimming arrangements.

They were under the overhang of the mysterious schooner.