arious impulses, he gave way only to the last. His
meditations, however, were confused and unsatisfactory. Turning from
them abruptly, he hurried along the street at a furious walk, muttering,
"I'll go an' tell Slagg." Then, pausing abruptly, "No, I won't, I'll go
an' inform the pleece."

Under this new impulse he hurried forward again, jostling people as he
went, and receiving a good deal of rough-handling in return. Presently
he came to a dead halt, and with knitted brows and set teeth, hissed,
"I'll go and drown myself."

Full of this intention he broke into a run, but, not being acquainted
with the place, found it necessary to ask his way to the port. This
somewhat sobered him, but did not quite change his mind, so that when he
eventually reached the neighbourhood of the shipping, he was still going
at a quick excited walk. He was stopped by a big and obviously
eccentric sea-captain, or mate, who asked him if he happened to know of
any active stout young fellow who wanted to ship in a tight little craft
about to sail for old England.

"No, I don't," said Stumps, angrily.

"Come now, think again," said the skipper, in no degree abashed, and
putting on a nautical grin, which was meant for a winning smile. "I'm
rather short-handed; give good wages; have an amiable temper, a good
craft, and a splendid cook. You're just the active spirited fellow that
I want. You'll ship now, eh?"

"No, I won't," said Stumps, sulkily, endeavouring to push past.

"Well, well, no offence. Keep an easy mind, and if you should chance to
change it, just come and see me, Captain Bounce, of the Swordfish.
There she lies, in all her beauty, quite a picture. Good-day."

The eccentric skipper passed on, but Stumps did not move. He stood
there with his eyes riveted on the pavement, and his lips tightly
compressed. Evidently the drowning plan had been abandoned for
something else--something that caused him to frown, then to smile, then
to grow slightly pale, and then to laugh somewhat theatrically. While
in this mood he was suddenly pushed to one side by some one who said--

"The track's made for walkin' on, not standin', young--Hallo!"

It was Slagg who had thus roughly encountered his mate.

"Why, Stumps, what's the matter with yon?"

"Nothing."

"Where 'ave you bin to?"

"Nowhere."

"Who's bin a-frightenin' of you!"

"Nobody."

"Nothin', nowhere, an' nobody," repeated his friend; "that's what I
calls a coorious