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"I think so—I hope so. I am very well disposed towards that scheme I have put into being—the construction of a sick-bay.[Pg 150] Every ship should have a sick-bay. You must agree with me, sir.",

Scarcely was the ensign blowing from its halliards when the brig fired a second shot, and as the passage of the Aurora and the shifting of her helm had brought the brig's trysail-gaff into view the schooner's crew saw the French flag streaming from the end of it.,

It was just at this juncture that Fatty Watland arrived; smiling and panting, with the pail, borrowed from his mother, full of drinking water. It took him but a moment to learn from one of the boys what had transpired. It took him still less time to reach the platform. There, with much humiliation of spirit and many "sirs," he explained to the greatly surprised, and it must be confessed, secretly relieved Mr. Johnston, the true state of affairs.,

She picked up the saucer and stood looking down at the gold piece which Croaker had brought in. "I don't s'pose there's a particle of use keepin' an eye on that crow?" she asked.

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Disregarding the question, Billy continued: "The tracks led us a long ways, I kin tell you. We got up into the Scroggie bush at last an' then the rain come.",

"Plase God," murmured Harry, "but ut's meself 'll be glad to lave this awful spot; lead on, Billy.",

She was dressed, of course, in the costume in which she had been kidnapped, and like the sailors she looked very much the worse for wear and tear. Her jockey-shaped hat, so modish and even rakish when purchased, had fallen into a confusion of headgear, a something that might have wanted a name had it been found on the highway. Her hair looked wild in the inartistic dressing it suffered from. Her rich and characteristic bloom had faded, and what lingered was but[Pg 360] as a delicate faint flush of expiring sunset. But even as she stood, not the most cynical and aspish of her own sex would have challenged her beauty, the charms of her figure, the melting sweetness of her eyes on whose dark-brown irids the white lids, rich in eyelash, reposed. Those eyes were wet now, and tears were upon her cheeks.,

"God love us!" ejaculated Harry, dropping the knife with which he was stirring the potatoes and reaching for the demijohn. "An' fer why should ye be out on that wild goose chase, now?"