CHAPTER XXXV
TELLS ABOUT A NEW CAMP
"That you, kiddo?" he called.
"Bert!" I said,
"Give us a lift over, will you?"
I just said, "What—is it you—Bert? Say yes. Say it's you."
"Well, then, it's me," he said; "hold her steady, my leg is stiff. All right, shall I push off?"
He stood there in the boat and he was lame and his left hand was hanging in his scout scarf that was made into a sling. In the lantern light I could see the yellow and black stripes. And he pushed against the stone with the stick that he had in his free hand, and started the boat off.
All I could say was just "Bert!" And I held the lantern close to him as he sat down. There was a long cut on his face and he didn't have any hat or jacket on and his trousers were all torn and dirty.
"Where—did—you—where is Skinny?" I asked him.
"Ever see a tiger use a crutch before?" he said. "I'm a punk tiger—what d'ye say."
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