Peter ignored the question. He was trying to guess what sort of strange creature this was.
"Well, if it's as good as you say," said Booge, "I'll teach him all three. That's liberal. I'll give you a sample of my singin'."
"You don't need to," said Peter. "When I want any singing, I'll do my own."
"Well, since you urge it that way," said Booge, "I can't refuse," and tapping his bare foot on the floor he sang. He found, somewhere in his head, a high, squeaky falsetto. It seemed to dwell in his nose. He sang:--
Go wash the little baby, the baby, the baby; Go wash the little baby, and give it toast and tea; Go wash the little baby, the baby, the baby, Go wash the little baby, and bring it back to me.
He let the last word drone out long and thin, and as it droned he made faces at Buddy, screwing up his eyes, wriggling his nose, and waggling his chin.
"Sing it again, Booge!" cried Buddy enthusiastically. "Sing it again."
The tramp arose and bowed gravely, first to Buddy and then to the frowning Peter.
"Sing it again, Booge!" commanded Buddy, and the tramp standing with his hand inside his coat, sang, in his deepest bass:--
Don't swear before the baby, the baby, the baby, Don't swear before the baby, or cheat or steal or lie, Don't swear before the baby, the baby, the baby, Don't swear before the baby, but give it apple pie.
"Ha, ha! Ha, ha, ha!" said Booge, exactly as it is printed.
"I want your _face_ to laugh!" ordered Buddy.
Booge screwed up his thin face, and Buddy looked and was satisfied. Booge was satisfied, too. He knew Buddy was boss of the boat, now, and he knew he stood well with Buddy.
"THUNDERING cats!" cried Peter with exasperation when the tramp had "ha, ha'd" and grinned through two more verses of the idiotic song; "I've got to go outside and tend to this boat!"
"You play with your toys a minute, now, Buddy," said Booge, as soon as Peter was outside. "My voice is such a delicate voice I got to rest it between songs or it's liable to get sick and die away for good. You wait 'til I rest it and I'll sing about that funny dog you've got there, if you remember to ask me."
He took his few belongings from the valise and hung them before the fire and then, crawling into the bunk, settled himself comfortably, and went to sleep. When Peter came in a minute later, with feet and legs chilled, Booge was snoring.