e cabin, but in the morning the
fishermen came in. And if they found that aught was not to their taste,
they beat him. But if all was well, they only bade him to wash up the
dishes, yet gave him nothing to eat, knowing that he would steal for
himself, as the custom of boys is.

But one morning they brought with them from their fishing the body of a
dead man--a man of the mainland whom they had found tumbling about in
the current of the Brenta. For he had looked out suddenly upon them
where the sea and the river strive together, and the water boils up in
great smooth, oily dimples that are not wholesome for men to meddle
with.

Now, whether these six men had not gone to confession or had not
confessed truly, so that the priest's absolution did them no good, the
tale ventures not to say. But this at least is sure, that for their sins
they set this dead thing that had been a man in the prow of the boat,
all in his wet clothes. And for a jest on the little boy they put his
hand on his brow, as though the dead were in deep cogitation.

As this story was in the telling, the attention of the children grew
keen and even painful. For the moment each was that lonely lad on the
islet, where stood the cabin of the Seven Dead Men.

So as the boat came near in the morning light, the boy stood to greet
them on the little wooden pier where the men landed their fish to clean,
and he called out to the men in the boat--

"Come quickly," he cried; "breakfast is ready--all but the fish to fry."

He saw that one of the men was asleep in the prow; yet, being but a
lad, he was only able to count as many as the crows--that is, four. So
he did not notice that in the boat there was a man too many. Nor would
he have wondered, had he been told of it. For it was not his place to
wonder. He was only sleepy, and desired to lie down after the long night
alone. Also he hoped that they had had a good catch of fish, so that he
would escape being beaten. For indeed he had taken the best of the
polenta for himself before the men came--which was as well, for if he
had waited till they were finished, there had been but dog's leavings
for him. He was a wise boy, this, when it came to eating. Now, eating
and philosophy come by nature, as doth also a hungry stomach; but
arithmetic and Greek do not come by nature. To which Henry Fenwick
presently agreed.

The men went in with a good appetite to their breakfast, and left the
dead man sitting alone in the p