iness in the old
man's tone), "for it was the long, hard night ye had with us; but we're to
get off here. Praise be to God, our killing journey is nearly done!"

And Dan stumbled out hurriedly to the deck, to find the boat pushing into
the harbor of a quaint old town, whose roofs and spires were glittering in
the noonday sunshine. Pretty sailboats were flitting hither and thither on
sunny wings; the white stretch of beach was gay with bathers; the full
notes of an orchestra came from the band stand on the jutting pier.

"Jing!" exclaimed Dan, in amazement at such a festive scene. "Is this
Killykinick?"

"No," was Dud Fielding's surly answer. "I wish it was. But I mean to cut
over here to the Fosters whenever I can. This is Beach Cliff, where we
have to take a sailboat to Killykinick. And," Dud went on, with deepening
disgust, "I bet it's that old tub that is signalling to us now."

Dan's eyes, following Dud's sullen gaze, saw, among the gaily painted
pleasure craft moored at the wharfs, a clumsy little boat with rusty sides
and dingy sail. An old man stood in the stern waving a tattered flag that,
caught out by the breeze, showed in large faded letters--Killykinick.

X.--ON THE "SARY ANN."

"It's the sign," said Brother Bart gratefully, as he caught sight of the
fluttering pennant. "He was to wave the flag to us so we would know the
boat. Keep together now, boys," continued their anxious guardian, who was
a little bewildered by a rush and struggle to which he was not accustomed.
"Ah, God help them that have to push their way in a world like this! Hold
to my hand, laddie, or ye'll be tramped down. Straight behind me now, the
rest of ye, so ye won't be lost."

And, marshalling his boyish force, Brother Bart pressed on through the
hurrying throngs that surged over gangway (for it was the height of the
holiday season) until he reached the shabby little boat whose occupant was
a very old man with a face brown and wrinkled as tanned leather. A long
scar across his cheek had twisted his mouth into a crooked smile. He spat
a large quid of tobacco into the water, and greeted his passengers with an
old sea dog's growl:

"Been waitin' more than an hour for ye, but that consarned boat ain't
never on time! Hit some pretty rough weather, I reckon, out at sea?"

"We did," answered Brother Bart, with feeling. "It's the mercy of God
we're alive to tell the tale. In with ye, boys, and sit steady. Take the
middle of the b