And I remembered now how people called him a dirty swamp-rat.
Many a time I'd heard them call him that.

Just a dirty little swamp-rat.
And now, he was sort of proud of it.
First, I couldn't move and I just couldn't speak.

Then I went up to him and I said--I didn't care for the doctor or anybody--I said, "Skinny, there's one fellow here who knows what the marshes are and that's me.
Because I came near getting swallowed up by them." "It's--it's--short-cut," he just panted out.

"All I want to tell you is," I said, "there's not another scout in the whole troop could do it--do you hear! You're not a swamp-rat, you're a swamp-scout," I said.
Then I was going to say more, only Skinny seemed as if he was going to fall and the doctor kind of seemed to want me to move away.

Anyway, I went over and got Skinny's belt-axe to carry it home for him..