was not a log, shaped and dug out, but regularly
constructed, with timbers and planking. When he finished it, only a few
months before his introduction to the reader, he felt competent to build
a yacht like the Sea Foam, without any assistance; but boys are
generally over-confident, and possibly he overrated his ability.

With his heart rising up into his throat, Donald walked towards the
cottage. As he passed the whitewashed gate, one of the neighbors came
out at the front door. She was an elderly woman, and she looked very sad
as she glanced at the boy.

"I'm glad you have come, Donald; but I'm afraid he'll never speak to you
again," said she.

"Is it my father?" gasped the poor fellow.

"It is; and he's very sick indeed."

"What ails him?"

"That's more than the doctors can tell yet," added the woman. "They say
it's very like the cholera; and I suppose it's cholera-morbus. He has
been ailing for several days, and he didn't take care of himself. But go
in, Donald, and see him while you may."

The young man entered the cottage. The doctors, his mother and sister,
were all doing what they could for the sufferer, who was enduring, with
what patience he could, the most agonizing pain. Donald went into the
chamber where his father lay writhing upon the bed. The physicians were
at work upon him; but he saw his son as he entered the room and held out
his hand to him. The boy took it in his own. It was cold and convulsed.

"I'm glad you've come, Donald," groaned he, uttering the words with
great difficulty. "Be a good boy always, and take care of your mother
and sister."

"I will, father," sobbed Donald, pressing the cold hand he held.

"I was afraid I might never see you again," gasped Mr. Ramsay.

"O, don't give up, my man," said Dr. Wadman. "You may be all right in a
few hours."

The sick man said no more. He was in too much pain to speak again, and
Dr. Wadman sent Donald to the kitchen for some hot water. When he
returned with it he was directed to go to the apothecary's for an ounce
of chloroform, which the doctors were using internally and externally,
and had exhausted their supply. Donald ran all the way as though the
life of his father depended upon his speed. He was absent only a few
minutes, but when he came back there was weeping and wailing in the
little cottage by the sea-side. His father had breathed his last, even
while the doctors were hopefully working to save him.

"O, Donald, Donald!" cried