w called it
on the dingy, and of course it was fastened to the bow."

"But to the stern of the larger vessel."

"Yes, but here there is no larger vessel. If you want one, for argument
sake, you'll have to imagine the post to be it. The coffin is bow on to
the shore."

"Corry, I insist, if I am to trust myself to this craft, that you call
it by some other name."

"Were you ever in anything of the kind before, Wilks?"

"Never."

"Nor I." These simple words had in them a depth of meaning.

A young man came on to the bridge and leaned over the rail, looking at
the fishermen. He was respectably clad in a farmer's holiday suit, was
tall, strongly built, and with good features that bore unmistakable
marks of dissipation. "I'll bet you that's Ben Toner," whispered the
lawyer, who was examining the new-found bow prior to depositing his
boards.

"Goin' fishin'?" asked the new comer, in a not unpleasant voice.

"Yes," replied Coristine; "we're going in this--what do you call it?"

"Dug-out, and mighty poor at that. Fishin's no good here now. River was
a pardise for Trontah folks wunst, but it's clean fished out. I seen
fellers go to a ho-ul up thayer," said the supposed Ben, pointing in the
opposite direction, "and take out a hull barl-ful afore sundown. 'Taint
to be did, not now, wuss luck! Wait to I come down, and I'll haylp you
off with that kinew."

The speaker descended, untied the frayed painter, and hauled the
dug-out to a point where, the bank being higher, embarkation was more
easy. He dissuaded the navigators from sitting on the boards placed over
the gunwales, as likely to be, what he called, parlous, and recommended
that the boards be placed on the floor of the craft to keep the water
off their "paants." The fishermen consented, and sat down safely at each
end facing one another, with his assistance to hold the dug-out steady,
the dominie in the bow and the lawyer in the stern. They thanked their
ally, bade him good afternoon, and proceeded to paddle. Ben Toner
laughed, and cried to Coristine: "I'll lay two to one on you, Mister,
for you've got the curnt to haylp you." The dugout, in spite of the
schoolmaster's fierce paddling, was moving corkscrew-like in the
opposite direction, owing largely to the current, but partly to the
superior height of the lawyer, which gave his paddle a longer sweep.
Still, he found progress slow, till a happy thought struck him.

"Wilks, my boy, it's paddling our own canoe we