at people who swallow what is called "truth" too easily, are apt to
imbibe a deal of error along with it. Doubtless it was for the benefit
of such that the word was given--"Prove all things. Hold fast that
which is good."

Fred then went to show the immense blessing that mission ships had
already been to the North Sea fishermen--alike to their souls and
bodies; but we may not follow him further, for Bob Lumsden and Pat
Stiver claim individual attention just now.

When these enterprising heroes observed that the shades of evening were
beginning to fall, they rose to take their leave.

"Why so soon away, lads?" asked Fred.

"We're goin' to see Eve Mooney," answered Bob. "Whatever are the boys
goin' to do wi' them thick sticks?" exclaimed Martha Lockley.

"Fit main an fore masts into a man-o'-war, I suppose," suggested her
husband.

The boys did not explain, but went off laughing, and Lockley called
after them--

"Tell Eve I've got a rare lot o' queer things for her this trip."

"And give her my dear love," cried Mrs Fred Martin.

"Ay, ay," replied the boys as they hurried away on their self-imposed
mission.

CHAPTER TWELVE.

THE ENTERPRISE FAILS--REMARKABLY.

The lads had to pass the "Blue Boar" on their way to Widow Mooney's hut,
and they went in just to see, as Bob said, how the land lay, and whether
there was a prospect of help in that quarter if they should require it.

Besides a number of strangers, they found in that den of iniquity Joe
Stubley, Ned Bryce, and Groggy Fox--which last had, alas! forgotten his
late determination to "leave the poor old stranded wreck and pull for
the shore." He and his comrades were still out among the breakers,
clinging fondly to the old wreck.

The boys saw at a glance that no assistance was to be expected from
these men. Stubley was violently argumentative, Fox was maudlinly
sentimental, and Bryce was in an exalted state of heroic resolve. Each
sought to gain the attention and sympathy of the other, and all
completely failed, but they succeeded in making a tremendous noise,
which seemed partially to satisfy them as they drank deeper.

"Come, nothin' to be got here," whispered Bob Lumsden, in a tone of
disgust, as he caught hold of his friend's arm. "We'll trust to
ourselves--"

"An' the thumpin' sticks," whispered Pat, as they reached the end of the
road.

Alas for the success of their enterprise if it had depended on those
formidable weapons of war!