see why he should. I
never injured him, and it was not my fault that I got the place he
wanted for his nephew."

"No, of course not. But keep your weather eye open."

"I will."

Captain Marshall showed no very great pleasure at finding that Nat was
in the right. The truth was he feared the mate would be chagrined over
the mistake he himself had made, and Captain Marshall was the least
bit afraid of Mr. Bumstead, for the commander knew the mate was aware
of certain shortcomings in regard to the management of the vessel, and
he feared his chief officer might disclose them.

"You want to be careful of your lists," the commander said to Nat.
"You were right this time, but next time you might be wrong."

Nat's pleasure at finding he had not made a mistake was a little
dampened by the cool way in which the captain took it, but Mr.
Weatherby told him not to mind, but to do his work as well as he
could, and he would get along all right.

For two or three days after that the voyage proceeded quietly. On the
third day the ship stopped at a small city, where part of the cargo
was discharged. Nat and the purser were kept busy checking off, and
verifying cargo lists, and, when the _Jessie Drew_ was ready to
proceed, Nat took to the mate a duplicate list of what cargo had been
discharged.

"Sure this is right?" asked Mr. Bumstead surlily.

"Yes, sir," replied Nat, more pleasantly than he felt.

"Don't be too sure, young man. I'll catch you in a mistake yet, and
when I do--well, look out--that's all."

He tossed the list on his desk, and, as he did so, some papers slipped
to the floor of his office. He stooped to pick them up, and something
dropped from his pocket.

It was a flat leather book, such as is used by some men in which to
carry their money or papers. Nat idly glanced at it as the mate
restored it to his pocket. Then the boy caught sight of something that
made his heart beat quickly.

For printed in gold letters on the outside of the wallet was a name,
and the name was that of his dead father, James Morton!

"That pocketbook! Where did you get it?" he eagerly asked of the mate.

"Pocketbook? What pocketbook?"

"The one that dropped from your pocket just now."

"That? Why, that's mine. I've had it a good while."

"But it has my father's name on it! I saw it. It is just like one he
used to carry. He always had it with him. Let me see it. Perhaps it
has some of his papers in it!"

Nat was excited. He rea