ing cars into the
great, gaping stern of the ferry.

Officially, and to chief extent in actuality, navigation now had
"closed" for the winter. Further up the harbor, beyond Number 25,
glowed the white lanterns marking two vessels moored and "laid up" till
spring; another was still in the active process of "laying up." Marine
insurance, as regards all ordinary craft, had ceased; and the
Government at sunrise, five days before, had taken the warning lights
from the Straits of Mackinaw, from Ile-aux-Galets, from north Manitou,
and the Fox Islands; and the light at Beaver Island had but five nights
more to burn.

Alan followed as the captain went below, and he went aft between the
car tracks, watching old Burr. Having no particular duty when the boat
was in dock, old Burr had gone toward the steamer "laying up," and now
was standing watching with absorption the work going on. There was a
tug a little farther along, with steam up and black smoke pouring from
its short funnel. Old Burr observed this boat too and moved up a
little nearer. Alan, following the wheelsman, came opposite the stern
of the freighter; the snow let through enough of the light from the
dock to show the name _Stoughton_. It was, Alan knew, a Corvet,
Sherrill, and Spearman ship. He moved closer to old Burr and watched
him more intently.

"What's the matter?" he asked, as the old man halted and, looking down
at the tug, shook his head.

"They're crossing," the wheelsman said aloud, but more to himself than
to Alan. "They're laying her up here," he jerked his head toward the
_Stoughton_. "Then they're crossing to Manitowoc on the tug."

"What's the matter with that?" Alan cried.

Burr drew up his shoulders and ducked his head down as a gust blew. It
was cold, very cold indeed in that wind, but the old man had on a
mackinaw and, out on the lake, Alan had seen him on deck coatless in
weather almost as cold as this.

"It's a winter storm," Alan cried. "It's like it that way; but
to-day's the 15th, not the 5th of December!"

"That's right," Burr agreed. "That's right."

The reply was absent, as though Alan had stumbled upon what he was
thinking, and Burr had no thought yet to wonder at it.

"And it's the _Stoughton_ they're laying up, not the--" he stopped and
stared at Burr to let him supply the word and, when the old man did
not, he repeated again--"not the--"

"No," Burr agreed again, as though the name had been given. "No."

"I