But no sound save the lapping of water on the beach and the creaking of
a boom on an unseen boat reached him.
"It would serve him right to leave him here," he muttered resentfully.
"Anyway, I'm not going to yell at him any more. I suppose he's so taken
up with his poison-ivy business that he can't think of anything else.
Wonder if I got into that stuff, too!" The idea was distinctly
unwelcome. He thought he recalled brushing through leaves as he crossed
the wall. He had never had any experience with poison-ivy and didn't
know whether or not he was susceptible, but it seemed to him that there
was a distinct itching sensation on his back. He squirmed uncomfortably.
Then a prickly feeling on his left wrist set him to rubbing it. He
examined the skin and, sure enough, it was quite red! He had it, too!
You had blisters all over you, Han had said. Perry looked for blisters
but found none. Still, he reflected miserably, it was probably too early
for them yet. He suddenly found himself rubbing his right wrist too. And
that, also, was distinctly inflamed looking, although not so red as the
other. Gee, he'd ought to do something! Alcohol! That was it! He ought
to bathe the places in alcohol! He jumped out of the dingey, pushed it
down the beach into the water and sprawled across the bow.
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