le, as though he had done a great thing.

"I am satisfied on one point," I replied.

"What's that?"

"That I was not mistaken in regard to your dealings with the firm."

"We won't discuss that question now," said he, with a sneer. "I have
used you well; I have done everything for you; I have given you all the
salary you asked, and given you a chance to get ahead."

"You have given me a chance to get a broken head," I replied, as he
paused to think what other good thing he had done for me.

"That's your own fault. After all I had done for you, I have my reward
in your ingratitude."

"Did you expect me to help you swindle the firm?" I demanded,
indignantly.

"You are not in condition just now to use hard words, and I advise you
to clap a stopper on that tongue of yours."

"If I say anything, I shall speak my mind. I know you now perfectly.
Last night I thought I might be mistaken about some things. Now I know
that you have swindled your partner, and I am not surprised to find
that you can handle a bludgeon as well as a pen."

"Better be civil, Phil," said he, biting his lip.

"I have nothing more to say. If you murder me, I shall feel that I have
tried to do my duty."

"I don't intend to murder you."

"I have no doubt you will if the occasion seems to require it. I shall
trust in God, and leave the crime with him."

He said no more then. When breakfast was ready, Peter relieved him at
the helm, and he went below. I heard him talking to Marian, and she
answered him with spirit. Though I could not distinguish her words, I
was sure that she was protesting against his cruelty to me. In about
half an hour he returned to the helm again, and my fair cousin followed
him, either with or without his permission.

"How do you feel, Phil?" she asked, taking her place by my side again,
and bathing my head with spirits, as before.

"I think my head feels a little better."

"Do you rest easily now?"

"Not very; I have to lie upon my hands or one of my arms."

"Mr. Whippleton, if you are not a brute, you will untie his hands," she
continued, appealing to the skipper.

"Then I am a brute," he answered, with a coarse grin.

"Why should you compel him to suffer pain?"

"I hope it will make him change his tone. He is as saucy and as
impudent as though he were the victor and I the vanquished."

"He will not be impudent again, if you will unloose him," added Marian,
in a gentle, pleading tone.

"Will he promise it