Young, "and--ah! here comes
some one else who will be glad to go."

The midshipman's tone and manner changed suddenly as he held out both
hands by way of invitation to Sally, who came skipping forward, and ran
gleefully towards him.

Sally was no longer the nude cherub which had landed on the island. She
had not only attained to maturer years, but was precocious both in body
and mind,--had, as we have shown, become matronly in her ideas and
actions, and was clothed in a short petticoat of native cloth, and a
little scarf of the same, her pretty little head being decorated with a
wreath of flowers culled and constructed by herself.

"No, I can't go," answered Sally to Young's invitation, with a solemn
shake of her head.

"Why not?"

"'Cause I's got to look arter babby."

Up to this period Sally had shown a decided preference for the
ungrammatical language of the seamen, though she associated freely with
Young and Christian. Perhaps her particular fondness for John Adams may
have had something to do with this.

"Which baby, Sall? You know your family is a pretty large one."

"Yes, there's a stunnin' lot of 'em--a'most too many for me; but I said
_the_ babby."

"Oh, I suppose you mean Charlie Christian?"

"In coorse I means Challie," replied the child, with a smile that
displayed a dazzling set of teeth, the sparkle of which was only
equalled by that of her eyes.

"Well, but you can bring Charlie along with you," said Young, "and I'll
engage to carry him and you too if you get tired. There, run away; find
him, and fetch him quick."

Little Sall went off like the wind, and soon returned with the
redoubtable Charles in her arms. It was all she could do to stagger
under the load; but Charlie Christian had not yet attained to facility
in walking. He was still in the nude stage of childhood, and his
faithful nurse, being afraid lest he should get badly scratched if
dragged at a rapid pace through the bushes, had carried him.

Submitting, according to custom, in solemn and resigned surprise,
Charlie was soon seated on the shoulders of our midshipman, who led the
way to the cliffs. William Brown followed, leading Sally by the hand,
for she refused to be carried, and Nehow brought up the rear.

The cliffs to which their steps were directed were not more than an
hour's walk from the settlement at Bounty Bay, though, for Sally's sake,
the time occupied in going was about half-an-hour longer. It was a wild