w
that it was on this very beach where we now stand that a friend led me
for the first time to think seriously of this matter--more than a year
ago."

"Indeed--who was it?" asked May eagerly.

"My chum and old school-fellow, poor Charlie Brooke," returned Shank, in
a strangely altered voice.

Then he went on to tell of the conversation he and his friend had had on
that beach, and it was not till he had finished that he became aware
that his sister was weeping.

"Why, May, you're crying. What's the matter?"

"God bless him!" said May in fervent yet tremulous tones as she looked
up in her brother's face. "Can you wonder at my feeling so strongly
when you remember how kind Charlie always was to you--to all of us
indeed--ever since he was a little boy at school with you; what a
true-hearted and steady friend he has always been. And you called him
poor Charlie just now, as if he were dead."

"True indeed, it is very, very sad, for we have great reason to fear the
worst, and I have strong doubt that I shall never see my old chum again.
But I won't give up hope, for it is no uncommon thing for men to be
lost at sea, for years even, and to turn up at last, having been cast
away on a desert island, like Robinson Crusoe, or something of that
sort."

The thoughts which seemed to minister consolation to Shank Leather did
not appear to afford much comfort to his sister, who hung her head and
made no answer, while her companion went on--

"Yes, May, and poor Charlie was the first to make me feel as if I were a
little selfish, though that as you know, is not one of my conspicuous
failings! His straightforwardness angered me a little at first, but his
kindness made me think much of what he said, and--well, the upshot of it
all is that I am going to California."

"I am glad--so glad and thankful he has had so much influence over you,
dear Shank, and now, don't you think--that--that if Charlie were with
you at this moment he would advise you not to go to Mr Smithers to
consult about your plans?"

For a few moments the brother's face betrayed a feeling of annoyance,
but it quickly cleared away.

"You are right, May. Smithers is too much of a convivial harum-scarum
fellow to be of much use in the way of giving sound advice. I'll go to
see Jamieson instead. You can have no objection to him--surely. He's a
quiet, sober sort of man, and never tries to tempt people or lead them
into mischief--which is more than can be sa