s somehow suggested cringing, as did his
manner. "Well, here we are again, turned up like bad pennies; just in
time, by the looks of it, to help ye finish this dandy yacht and sail
her to--wherever you thinks of goin'."

"What!" I exclaimed, in inexpressible amazement, "can it be possible
that you are Svorenssen and--and Van Ryn? Why, I believed that you and
all the rest of the crew of the _Yorkshire Lass_ were drowned when she
was wrecked, more than a year ago."

"So we was, Mister--very nigh," replied Svorenssen. "There was only
three of us--besides you and Billy--that escaped; and that was me, Dirk
here, and a chap named Flemin'--Pete, we used to call 'im. When the
ship struck we was all washed overboard by the first sea as broke
aboard; and nat'rally those of us as could swim struck out as soon as
our heads rose above water. And--but, I say, Mister, ain't there no
breakfast knockin' about? We haven't ate nothin' since yesterday
a'ternoon, and we're feelin' pretty sharp set, I can tell ye."

"Breakfast!" I reiterated. "Why, of course. It will be ready in about
an hour's time. But you cannot come up to the house as you are, you
know--by the way, were you by any chance prowling about in the
neighbourhood of the house last night?"

"Ay, we was," answered Svorenssen. "We landed on the beach below it,
and made it out at once in the moonlight. We guessed as it was yours;
and we was for rousin' you out to give us a bite o' supper; but that dog
o' yours growled so vicious, and seemed so savage, that we decided to
wait till this mornin'."

"It was extremely fortunate for you that you did," said I. "The `dog',
as you call him, happens to be a _leopard_; and if you had persisted in
your attempt to approach the house, the pair of you would assuredly have
been killed. I tell you this at once, by way of warning."

"The beast will 'ave to be shained oop; else how are we to go in an' out
of der 'ouse?" demanded Van Ryn.

"You will _not_ go in and out of the house," I retorted. "There is no
room for you there. Then, just look at yourselves. You are as indecent
in the matter of your clothing as you are filthy in your persons.
Before anything else you will have to cleanse yourselves, and be clothed
decently. The condition of your clothes you cannot help, I suppose,
being castaways for more than a year; but you might at least have kept
your bodies clean. You are disgustingly verminous, both of you; and
after