bing his eyes and looking about
him in bewilderment.

"Colorado, the Senor Pike, already well known to you!" said the Skipper,
with a graceful wave of the hand. "Your guardian, the old gentleman
Scraper, desires of our company at breakfast. How then, son of mine?
Shall we go, or shall I keep you here, and bid Sir Scraper find his way
to the devil, which will be for him little difficult?" He smiled on the
boy, and took his hand with a caressing gesture.

Little John heaved a great sigh, and the cares of the world floated
from him like a summer cloud. "Oh, I knew it!" he cried, smiling
joyously up into his friend's face. "I knew it all the time, or almost
all! You never meant anything but fun, did you? and we will go back,
won't we? And we shall feel all right inside, and things will not
sit--I--I mean nothing will feel bad any more. I--I can't say all I
mean," he added, rather lamely, "because I had thoughts in the night;
but we will go now, you and I, you and I!"

* * * * *

As they approached the gate, John stopped a moment, and looked up at his
companion. "Would you mind holding my hand?" he asked. "I am all right
in my mind, but I think I am rather queer in my legs; I think I should
feel better if I held the hand of--of somebody who wasn't little, or--or
weak."

Oh, the strong, cordial pressure of the big, brown hand! how it sent
warmth and cheer and courage through the little quivering frame! John
was all right in his mind, as he said, but his body felt already the
stinging blows of the cane, his ears rang already with the burning words
of rage and spite.

"But it is the inside that matters!" said John, aloud; and he shut his
eyes and went into the house.

"Good-morning, gentleman," the Skipper began, always at his courteous
ease.

"I have to ask your forgiveness, that I carry off yesterday our young
friend here. You were not at house, I desired greatly of his company; I
have the ways of the sea, waiting not too long for the things I like;
briefly, I take him away. That I bear the blame of this is my desire.
And now, shall we pleasantly converse, ha?"

He seated himself, drew the boy between his knees, and looked Mr.
Scraper squarely in the eyes. Now, Mr. Scraper did not like to be looked
at in this manner; he shifted on his chair, and his mouth, which had
been opened to pour out a flood of angry speech, closed with a spiteful
snap, and then opened, and then closed again.