wiggled away from him and tried to crawl over and nestle in Dick's arms.
"Here, hold on! Wait a minute! Not so fast! Give me a sponge and a towel!" begged the wealthy lad with a laugh, trying to keep the dog in the bottom of the boat, at the same time appreciating the poor brute's evident pleasure in being rescued. "He must have absorbed about a gallon of water," added Dick, ruefully, as he looked at his clothes, and the little salty puddle forming at his feet.
"Queer looking baby," commented Paul, with a grin at his chum.
"That's all right. It did sound like one crying: didn't it?" and Dick appealed to the sailors.
"Sure," agreed Larson, respectfully.
"Certainly," said Frank.
"I'll take him on board and feed him up," went on the millionaire's son, "and then"
"Maybe Grit will eat him before you get a chance to feed him," suggested Paul.
"By Jinks! I never thought of that," admitted Dick. "I wonder if I can risk it?" for Grit had little use for other dogs, though he never went out of his way to fight. "I'll chance it, though," the lad went on. "I'll make Grit be friends with him."
Nor was it a difficult task, for the little puppy was so weak and forlorn, as it sprawled awkwardly on deck that Grit, after an ominous growl and a showing of his ugly teeth, changed his temper
