for a long while. Now, where's your
dunnage? I'll show you your room, and you can settle down right away."

"My dunnage isn't down yet, skipper," replied Frobisher, smiling. "I
came down just to tell you what I had decided, intending to go back and
fetch my traps this afternoon."

Drake looked rather blank at hearing this. "That's a pity," he
remarked, thoughtfully, half to himself. Then, addressing Frobisher:
"Well, trot away back, and get them down here as quickly as you can,
will ye? Certain events have happened since I saw you yesterday that
make me anxious to leave at the very earliest moment possible, and I've
already made arrangements to clear directly after I had seen you this
afternoon."

"I'll be off at once, skipper," returned Frobisher, "and be back again
not later than one o'clock." And the young man darted out of the
chart-house, across the gangway, and out of the dock premises like a
sprinter, leaving Drake staring open-mouthed after him.

"He certainly can take a hint quicker than any man I've ever met," said
that worthy, as he resumed the study of his chart.

Two hours later Frobisher was back in Kingston, had packed his
belongings, and was saying good-bye to his old friend, Dick Penryn.

Neither of the men felt very happy at parting, and both, after the
manner of their kind, tried to conceal their real feelings by an
exaggerated show of indifference. Thus it was that their farewells were
brief, almost to curtness, and to the point; and it was only as
Frobisher was actually on the door-step that Dick pushed into his
friend's hands a parcel--the same parcel that had caught Frobisher's eye
that morning. It was heavy, and the recipient could not guess, even
remotely, as to its contents; but he thanked Dick heartily, tucked the
package under his arm, and got into the cab which had been sent for.

One last firm hand-grip, two rather husky good-byes, now that the actual
moment for parting had come, and the pair were separated--one bound for
the far, mysterious East, the other to return in a few days to the ship
he had come to look upon as his real home.

It was with a few minutes in hand that Frobisher leapt out of his cab at
the dock gates, and collected his few belongings. He paid the cabby,
and, with his customary swiftness of movement, turned and started to
trot quickly through the gates towards the _Quernmore_; but as he did
so, he collided violently with another man, causing him to si