e rough experience of the trip, I ate enough to make me
feel tolerably strong. Marian kept the helm all the afternoon, and I
lay upon the cushions where I obtained a little sleep, which made my
head feel better. The fair helmswoman promised to wake me if anything
went wrong. About sunset Mr. Whippleton came to his senses again. He
had been asleep most of the time, for we heard him snore.

"O, my head!" groaned he, as he opened his eyes, and then rolled off
the cushions in his efforts to get up.

I called Peter, and we put him back again.

"My head! My head!" repeated he.

"Mine felt so this morning," I replied, in consoling tones.

He struggled to rise, but the rope had been carefully secured.

"Untie me, Phil," cried he, angrily.

"Excuse me," I replied. "I have you where I want you, and for your sake
I hope we shall have a quick passage to Chicago."

"Is she headed for Chicago?"

"Yes, and has been for four hours. The tables are turned."

"Untie me, Phil. I am in great pain."

"If I can do anything to relieve your pain, I will, but I will not
untie you."

He pleaded and begged for me to release him, but I dared not do so. He
complained bitterly of his head, and made me various offers to let him
go. I assured him that I should hand him over to the police the next
day; until then, I would do anything I could to make him comfortable,
except to give him his liberty. I brought up the bedding and pillows
belonging to one of the berths in the cabin, and prepared an easy couch
beneath him. I directed Peter to give him his supper, and to feed him
like a child. He said he was comfortable then, but begged for whiskey.
I refused to honor this demand; and finding that Peter was boozing more
than I deemed best, I emptied all the bottles into the lake, with the
hope that the fish would not be harmed by it.

Marian retired at an early hour; but she came on deck in the middle of
the night, and insisted upon taking the helm; yet I dared not sleep,
for the wind was freshening, and we spent the rest of the night in
talking. At daylight I discovered the steeples of Chicago in the
distance. We had a stiff breeze then, and at six o'clock I ran the
Marian into the river.

CHAPTER XXVII.

IN WHICH PHIL VISITS MR. COLLINGSBY AGAIN, AND IS A HERO IN SPITE OF
HIMSELF.

Having run the Marian into the river, I brought her alongside the pier
at her usual landing-place. I was very tired, and my head still ached
severely.