the subdued hub-bub which sounded from the companion.

"Well, what is it?" roared the skipper, patting his favourite's head.

"It's that blasted dawg, sir," cried an angry voice from above. "Go down
and show 'im your leg, Joe."

"An 'ave another lump took out of it, I s'pose," said another voice
sourly. "Not me."

"I don't want to look at no legs while I'm at dinner," cried the
skipper. "O' course the dog'll bite you if you've been teasing him."

"There's nobody been teasing 'im," said the angry voice again. "That's
the second one 'e's bit, and now Joe's goin' to have 'im killed--ain't
you, Joe?"

Joe's reply was not audible, although the infuriated skipper was
straining his ears to catch it.

"Who's going to have the dog killed?" he demanded, going up on
deck, while Rupert, who evidently thought he had an interest in the
proceedings, followed unobtrusively behind.

"I am, sir," said Joe Bates, who was sitting on the hatch while the cook
bathed an ugly wound in his leg. "A dog's only allowed one bite, and
he's 'ad two this week."

"He bit me on Monday," said the seaman who had spoken before. "Now he's
done for hisself."

"Hold your tongue!" said the skipper angrily. "You think you know a lot
about the law, Sam Clark; let me tell you a dog's entitled to have as
many bites as ever he likes, so as he don't bite the same person twice."

"That ain't the way I've 'eard it put afore," said Clark, somewhat taken
back.

"He's the cutest dog breathing," said the skipper fondly, "and he knows
all about it. He won't bite either of you again."

"And wot about them as 'asn't been bit yet, sir?" inquired the cook.

"Don't halloo before you're hurt," advised the skipper. "If you don't
tease him he won't bite you."

He went down to his dinner, followed by the sagacious Rupert, leaving
the hands to go forward again, and to mutinously discuss a situation
which was becoming unbearable.

"It can't go on no longer, Joe," said Clark firmly; "this settles it."

"Where is the stuff?" inquired the cook in a whisper.

"In my chest," said Clark softly. "I bought It the night he bit me."

"It's a risky thing to do," said Bates.

"'Ow risky?" asked Sam scornfully. "The dog eats the stuff and dies.
Who's going to say what he died of? As for suspicions, let the old man
suspect as much as he likes. It ain't proof."

The stronger mind had its way, as usual, and the next day the skipper,
coming quietly on deck, was just in time