ronzed. Cap'n Bill's left leg was
missing, from the knee down, and that was why the sailor no longer
sailed the seas. The wooden leg he wore was good enough to stump around
with on land, or even to take Trot out for a row or a sail on the
ocean, but when it came to "runnin' up aloft" or performing active
duties on shipboard, the old sailor was not equal to the task. The loss
of his leg had ruined his career and the old sailor found comfort in
devoting himself to the education and companionship of the little girl.

The accident to Cap'n Bill's leg bad happened at about the time Trot
was born, and ever since that he had lived with Trot's mother as "a
star boarder," having enough money saved up to pay for his weekly
"keep." He loved the baby and often held her on his lap; her first
ride was on Cap'n Bill's shoulders, for she had no baby-carriage; and
when she began to toddle around, the child and the sailor became close
comrades and enjoyed many strange adventures together. It is said the
fairies had been present at Trot's birth and had marked her forehead
with their invisible mystic signs, so that she was able to see and do
many wonderful things.

The acacia tree was on top of a high bluff, but a path ran down the
bank in a zigzag way to the water's edge, where Cap'n Bill's boat was
moored to a rock by means of a stout cable. It had been a hot, sultry
afternoon, with scarcely a breath of air stirring, so Cap'n Bill and
Trot had been quietly sitting beneath the shade of the tree, waiting
for the sun to get low enough for them to take a row.

They had decided to visit one of the great caves which the waves had
washed out of the rocky coast during many years of steady effort. The
caves were a source of continual delight to both the girl and the
sailor, who loved to explore their awesome depths.

"I b'lieve, Cap'n," remarked Trot, at last, "that it's time for us to
start."

The old man cast a shrewd glance at the sky, the sea and the motionless
boat. Then he shook his head.

"Mebbe it's time, Trot," he answered, "but I don't jes' like the looks
o' things this afternoon."

"What's wrong?" she asked wonderingly.

"Can't say as to that. Things is too quiet to suit me, that's all. No
breeze, not a ripple a-top the water, nary a gull a-flyin' anywhere,
an' the end o' the hottest day o' the year. I ain't no weather-prophet,
Trot, but any sailor would know the signs is ominous."

"There's nothing wrong that I can see," s