At last he slipped out of the bunkhouse, went up and said good-bye to his host and rode off in the direction of home. In all probability Jerry would not come home until late.,
What a clear light green the water was under the wharf! You could see every single snail shell, every starfish, and every tiniest stone on the smooth, light-colored bottom. Whole schools of small fish darted, quick as lightning, between the slimy old piles. Once in a while a lazy eel glided under the wharf, wound slowly in and out, lay still a moment as if to sun itself, then slowly, curve after curve, took itself out again.,
Drowsily Jerry demanded, “What’s so all-fired funny, you early bird?”.
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