d the cook, mentioning a place he had heard of in his
wanderings. "At least I was, but I find it's too much for me. Would you
mind doing me the favor of cutting this line?"

"No, no," said the other reproachfully, "don't give up now. Why, it's
only another seventeen miles."

"I must give it up," said the cook, with a sad smile.

"Don't be beat," said the man warmly. "Keep your 'art up, and you'll be
as pleased as Punch presently to think how near you was losing."

"Cut it off," said the cook, trembling with impatience; "I've earned
forty pounds of it by coming so far. If you cut it off I'll send you ten
of it."

The man hesitated while an inborn love of sport struggled with his
greed.

"I've got a wife and family," he said at last in extenuation, and taking
out a clasp-knife, steadied the cook with one hand while he severed his
bonds with the other.

"God bless you, mate!" said the cook, trying to straighten his bowed
back as the chair fell to the ground.

"My name's Jack Thompson," said his benefactor. "Jack Thompson,
Winchgate 'll find me."

"I'll make it twelve pounds," said the grateful cook, "and you can have
the chair."

He shook him by the hand, and, freed from his burden, stepped out on his
return journey, while his innocent accomplice, shouldering the chair,
went back to learn from the rightful owner a few hard truths about his
mental capacity.

Not knowing how much start he would have, the cook, despite his hunger
and fatigue, pushed on with all the speed of which he was capable.
After an hour's journey he ventured to ask the direction of an embryo
ploughman, and wheedled out of him a small, a very small, portion of his
breakfast. From the top of the next hill he caught a glimpse of the sea,
and taking care to keep this friend of his youth in sight, felt his way
along by it to Brittlesea. At midday he begged some broken victuals from
a gamekeeper's cottage, and with renewed vigor resumed his journey, and
at ten o'clock that night staggered on to Brittlesea quay and made his
way cautiously to the ship. There was nobody on deck, but a light burned
in the foc'sle, and after a careful peep below he descended. Henry, who
was playing, a losing game of draughts with Sam, looked up with a start,
and overturned the board.

"Lord love us, cookie!" said Sam, "where 'ave you been?"

The cook straightened up, smiling faintly, and gave a wave of his hand
which took in all the points of the compass. "Everywh