ing in a back tilted chair. He slipped quietly along in
his bare feet, but Timotheus, though sleeping, was on guard. The Crew's
brother awoke, soon as he tried the door, and in a moment, was on his
back. "It's I, my good Timotheus," said the lawyer, and at once the grip
relaxed. "I want to let that poor dog, Muggins, in." Then Timotheus
unlocked the door, and Coristine whistled, and called "Hi Muggins,
Muggins, Muggy, Mug, Mug, Mug, Mug!" when the mongrel came bounding in,
with every expression of delight. Coristine warmly thanked The Crew's
brother, pressed a dollar on his acceptance, and then retired to No. 6.
Muggins followed him, and lay down upon the rag carpet outside that
apartment, to keep watch and ward for the rest of the night, entirely
ignoring his owner, the Grinstun man.

There was a pail of swamp water in the middle of the room, at the bottom
of which lay some little black things. As this water became warm, these
little fellows began to rise and become frolicksome. Like minute
porpoises or dolphins, they joined in the mazy dance, and rose higher
and higher. All night long, by the light of the kerosene lamp, they
indulged in silent but unceasing hilarity. The snores of the sleepers,
the watchful dream-yaps of Muggins, did not affect them. They were bound
to have a good time, and they were having it. Morning came, and the sun
stole in through the window. Then, the wiggler grew tired, and came,
like many tired beings, to the top. For a time he was quiescent, but
soon the sun's rays gave force to the inner impulse which "rent the veil
of his old husk," and transformed it into a canoe or raft, containing a
draggle-tailed-looking creature with a big head and six staggery legs.
Poising itself upon the raft, the outcome of the wiggler sunned its
crumplety wings, till "like gauze they grew," and then all of it, a
whole pailful of it, made for the sleepers, to help its more mature
relations, which had come in through the open window to the light, to
practice amateur phlebotomy upon them. The pedestrians awoke to feel
uncomfortable, and rub and scratch their faces, heads, necks, and hands.
"It's clean devoured I am, Wilks," cried Coristine. "The plagues of
Egypt have visited us," replied the dominie. So, they arose and dressed
themselves, and descended to the noisome bar-room. There they found
Timotheus, awake and busy, while, at their heels, frisking about and
looking for recognition, was their night guard Muggins.