"Oh, you and your checks!" exclaimed Ned, in no mood to have fun poked at him.
"Moral! Don't go to sleep while you're fishing," said Bart.
"Well, I did better than you fellows did. You didn't get anything," retorted the fisherman.
Ned, at the suggestion of the captain, put some salve on his wrist, for the cord had cut through the flesh. Then he had Bart bandage it up. This done the boys resumed their seats near the after rail, and talked about Ned's exciting catch.
"I hope you don't try such a thing again," remarked Mr. Ackerman, as he came back from his cabin. "It's a little too much for my nerves." He sank down in a deck chair, and the boys noticed that he was quite pale. He seemed unable to get his breath.
"Would you mind--would one of you mind, reaching in my pocket and getting a bottle of smelling salts that I carry," he asked. "I think if I took a sniff I'd feel better."
"I will," volunteered Fenn, for Mr. Ackerman's hands hung limply by his side, and he seemed incapable of helping himself.
"Is this it?" asked Fenn, as he reached in the upper right hand pocket of the invalid's vest and pulled out a small bottle.
"No--no," was the answer, half whispered. "That is my headache cure. I think it must be in the lower pocket."
Fenn replaced the headache cure and explored the lower right-hand vest pocket.
"Is this it?" he inquired, drawing up a small box.
"No, no--my dear young friend--those are my liver pills. Try again. I think it must be on the other side."
He still seemed too weak to raise his hands. Ned was about to call Captain Wiggs, but Fenn made another try.
"I have it!" he exclaimed, pulling out a shining metal tube.
"No--no," said the invalid faintly, opening his eyes and looking at what Fenn held up. "That's my asthma cure. Try the next pocket, please."
"Say, he'll kick the bucket if Fenn doesn't find that medicine pretty soon," whispered Frank. "Guess I'll help him."
Fenn began a search of the lower left-hand vest pocket. He brought up a bottle, containing a dark liquid. Wishing to make sure he had the right stuff, he smelled of it, before asking Mr. Ackerman to open his eyes and look at it.
"Smells bad enough to be it," was Fenn's answer.
"No, no. You haven't got it yet," spoke the invalid, in peevish tones. "That is my heart remedy. I must kindly ask you to try again. I remember now, it's in my right-hand coat pocket."