reached the edge he looked sharply back and saw that the
Norwegian captain had returned, and Captain Marsham and the doctor had
turned to see what he wanted. That was Steve's opportunity, and going
down on one knee he reached over where the shock-headed boy lay with the
side of his head resting upon the boat's gunwale ten feet below, and one
ear turned up as if listening while its owner slept.

Steve Young calculated pretty well in trying to get his hand exactly
over that ear, and then let a little sand trickle down. It fell right
into the ear, for there was not a breath of wind; but the boy slept on.
Steve let a little more go down, and this time there was a tiny stone as
well, which struck the open organ and made it twitch, just as a dog's
ear does when it is tickled. But the boy slept on, and Steve tried
again, letting more sand fall. This time the boy raised his hand and
gave his ear a vicious rub. Then the hand dropped, and he slept again.
More sand, and a stone or two about half the size of peas, one of which
dropped right into the opening of the ear, and resulted in the boy
making a rapid dash with his hand past his head, as if striking at
something. He subsided once more with a grunt, and more sand fell in
company with tiny pebbles. This time the boy made three or four savage
blows in the air, but without raising his head or opening his eyes.
"Bother the flees!" he muttered, and Steve waited. Then down went the
trickling sand. "Bother the flees, I say!" cried the boy, opening his
eyes now, and making a few more angry strokes with his hand. Again he
closed his eyes, and, practice making perfect, Steve dropped a tiny
pebble right into the boy's ear, and drew back out of sight; for this
time the lad sprang up and looked sharply round. Then, seeing nothing
on the wharf overhead, he turned to the man in the stern, and said
sharply:

"That you, Hahmeesh?"

"Eh?" came in a drowsy tone.

"That you flecking stanes in my lug?"

"Na. Flees."

"No. Stanes and sahnd."

"Flees, I tell you. Be quiet."

The boy grunted, looked round, and settled down again to sleep, for he
was still drowsy.

Steve listened till all was still, glanced over his right shoulder, saw
that Captain Marsham was still talking to the Norwegian, and then
quietly peered over the edge of the granite wharf again, to find the boy
apparently fast asleep. Then down went a tiny pebble with splendid aim.

"Bother the flees!" roared the