Making a megaphone of his hands he yelled derisively:

"Yah! He _wasn't drowned!_"

Then he sat down again and caught up his oar and began lunging
desperately at the water. "Hurry, Dave, hurry!" he commanded
excitedly.

"What's got into you?" exclaimed Dave impatiently. "You've been
flying off on about forty different angles lately. What new bug has
bitten you?"

"Bug! Dave, do you mean to tell me you didn't hear what the man
said?"

"Course I did--but we're going, aren't we? He didn't say he'd shoot
unless we kept on coming ahead."

"Oh--_that!_ Well, you've been up all night, so no wonder you're
half asleep. Didn't you hear him say: 'Where was young Fulton
drowned?'"

"Sure."

"Well?"

"Well what? What in thunder's got into you? Why shouldn't he ask
that?"

"He should have. He should have asked it the first time we talked to