grown up and useful. He'd brought a roll of bandage stuff—the kind with a blue wrapper that you keep in First Aid kits—and a book that had "Coast Pilot Guide and Harbor Entrances of New England" on the cover. I did n't see what he could want that for, except on the boat, till he put it under Greg's armpit and bandaged his arm across it to keep it steady. The white waistcoat was in our man's way, so he ripped it down the side and got it off entirely.
"I was an explorer," Greg explained shakily.
"He was Baroo, the Madagascar cabin-boy," Jerry said, gnawing the loaf, and I thought it seemed years ago that we had trekked across Wecanicut.
"I see," said our man, in his nice, kind, reliable way, and then he said to Greg, "I did n't hurt you much, did I, old fellow?"
And Greg shook his head, and said:
129
