pieces against that
great, ponderous wreck!"

"Never fear," responded Leslie, cheerfully; "Chips knows what he is
about. See, there; how keenly he watched for his chance, and how neatly
he took it when it came. He saw that rope's-end hanging over the stern
long before he came to it, you may depend; and now inboard he goes, and
there he stands on the poop without so much as a touch of the boat
against the wreck. And there goes the boat round into the sheltered lee
of the hull, where she will lie quite comfortably. And thither we will
go, too, in readiness to pick them up when they shove off again."

The brig bore up and, wearing round, came-to again quite close under the
lee of the wreck; so close, indeed, that it was quite easy to see with
the unassisted eye everything that was going on aboard her, as well as
to obtain a more comprehensive and detailed view of the havoc that had
been wrought on her by the combined effects of wind and sea.

Their attention, however, was for the moment attracted rather to what
was happening on board, than to the condition of the wreck herself; Miss
Trevor being an especially interested spectator. After all, it was not
very much: simply this, that under the lee of a hencoop on the poop,
that had somehow resisted the onslaughts of the sea, Chips had
discovered a very fine Newfoundland dog crouching--or perhaps lying
exhausted; and he was now endeavouring to induce the animal to leave his
shelter with the view of coaxing him into the boat. But for some reason
or other the brute refused to move, responding to the carpenter's
blandishments only by a feeble intermittent beating of his tail upon the
deck.

"Oh," exclaimed Miss Trevor, when she grasped the state of affairs, "I
_hope_ he will be able to rescue the poor creature! He is a beautiful
animal; and I am so fond of dogs."

"What is the matter with him, Chips? Won't he trust you?" hailed
Leslie, sending his powerful voice to windward through the palms of his
hands.

The carpenter stood up and faced about. "Seems to be pretty nigh
starved, so far as I can make out, sir," he replied. "The poor beggar's
just nothin' but skin and bone, and too weak to stand, by the looks of
'im."

"Then take him up in your arms and drop him overboard," suggested
Leslie. "And you, there, in the boat, stand by to pick him up. He'll
have sense enough to swim to you."

So said, so done; Miss Trevor watching the apparently somewhat heartless