THE LUCK OF THE IRISH
"Sure I do. But ain't she the cheerful old liar, though? Look at her now—mild as a cat with a platter of cream. But when she gets her back up, believe me!"
"Know anything about it?" asked Greenwood, the crotchety one. For, while William was not above hectoring him, he on his part was not above laying traps for William's ignorance.
"Only what I can see on top."
"Then what is down below does not interest you?"
"It wouldn't if I was anywhere near it," countered William, shrewdly scenting a trap.
The old fellow shrugged, but his companion smiled. And straightway he began to uncover the sea's floor to William. His descriptions were simple and untechnical. He liked this freckle-faced boy, with his boundless vitality, his fresh enthusiasm, his unfailing cheerfulness.
"All new stuff to me," William admitted. "But I thought that you dug up tombs and the like?"
"I do; but to all men of science there is nothing more fascinating than the floor of the sea. It is because there are a thousand mysteries down there none of us shall ever solve. What would interest you most to see in the world?"
"Why, I'd like to take a peek at all the battlefields first; and then, after that, I shouldn't mind going back to Babylon and digging for Shalmaneser's bat-bag."
"You might at least learn something," said old grumpy.
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