CHAPTER VII.

The next morning the sky was gray, and filled with flying clouds. The wind was blowing fresh and cold from the northwest, and the boys shivered, until their morning bath set their blood racing through their veins.

"What do you think of the weather, Tom?" asked Charley, as they were drinking their coffee.

"I don't think much of it," interrupted Joe. "It isn't half as good as the weather we had last summer."

"Junior officers will please not give their opinions until they are asked for," said the young Captain, in his severest official manner.

"I think," replied Tom, "that we're going to have a windy day, and I shouldn't be surprised if it rained before night."

"Not unless the wind backs around to the southwest," said Charley. "I think it will blow hard; but it doesn't very often rain with a northwest wind."

"Never mind if it doesn't rain," said Joe; "we'll get wet somehow, you can be sure."

"I think," said Charley, "that we'd better get up our anchor right away, for after awhile it may blow so hard that we'll have to run into some harbor for the rest of the day."

The _Ghost_'s jib and mainsail were set, and with the wind on her port quarter she began to pile up the foam under her bow. In spite of the gloomy appearance of the sky and water, the speed of the boat put the boys in high spirits. The bay was covered with white caps, and in some places there was quite a heavy sea; but as the _Ghost_ was running before it, no spray came on board, and Joe, in spite of his conviction that he must get wet, was dry and comfortable. The wind steadily increased, and before long Charley saw the necessity of reefing. So he brought the boat with her head to the wind, let go the anchor, and lowered the sails.

"Do you mean to say that we've got to anchor every time we reef?" asked Harry, as he was knotting the reef-points of the mainsail.

"It isn't necessary to anchor. We could put in a reef if we had no anchor with us; but with as much wind as we have now, it makes the work of reefing a good deal easier if we are lying at anchor."

"Why couldn't we reef while the boat is running under her jib?" inquired Tom.

"You can't tie the reef-points unless the sail is down, and you can't get the sail down while the boat is before the wind, and the sail is full. We could throw her head up into the wind, and get the sail down, and then let her run off under the jib until we get through reefing; but then we'd have to haul down the jib, and pull her head around with an oar, before we could set the mainsail again. Anchoring saves a whole lot of trouble, and there is no reason why we shouldn't anchor when we are where the anchor will take bottom."

With the reefed mainsail the _Ghost_ behaved better than she had done. She rolled less, and steered more easily. The boys were delighted with the way in which she raced over the water, but occasionally, when they looked at the curling seas which followed her, and seemed to just miss breaking over her stern, they were a little uneasy.

"There is no danger from those seas as long as we can carry all this sail," remarked Charley. "The boat is moving faster than they are, and they can't overtake her."

But it was soon evident that sail would have to be shortened again. The wind was now blowing a gale, and not a sail was visible on the bay. Charley did not care to come to an anchor, for he had noticed a point of land about a mile ahead, and intended to run under the lee of it, and put in a second reef. So he was about to order Joe to slack the peak halyards, when, without the slightest warning, the _Ghost_'s mast went over the side with a tremendous crash, tearing up part of the deck, and very nearly dragging Joe overboard with the halyards, which caught him around the neck.

"Keep cool, boys," cried Charley. "Let go the anchor, and then get hold of the jib, and try to drag it in clear of the wreck."

A few vigorous pulls brought the jib on deck, where it was thrown into the cockpit, and an effort was then made to get the spars alongside, and lash them together. The boys worked hard, but the weight of the mainsail, soaked as it was with water, made their efforts unsuccessful. While they were still working, the sea suddenly swept the wreck away from them, and to their dismay they found that the one rope which had attached it to the boat had parted, and that the mast and mainsail had started on an independent cruise. Harry would have jumped overboard in chase of it, but Charley forbade him, and assured his comrades that the wreck would drift quietly across to the beach, where they could find it after the wind went down.

"And have we got to stay here all day?" exclaimed Harry. "I don't like the notion at all. Why shouldn't we drift down to the beach after the wreck?"

"Because the seas would fill us full of water long before we could get there. I'm not sure, though, but what we can sail there."

"I'd like to know how we can set a sail without a mast?" said Harry.

"Suppose you and Tom take hold of the ends of a rubber blanket, and stand one on each side of the deck, so as to spread the blanket out as wide as possible. Joe could stand between you, and let the blanket blow right against him. If you fellows could hold it, I believe we could run down to the beach in a very little while."

"Come on," exclaimed Harry; "let's try it. I'll get out a blanket, while somebody gets up the anchor."

"And I'll try to get her round before the wind with an oar," said Charley. "Be ready with the blanket as soon as I give you the word. You must stand up near the bow, about the same place where the mast used to stand. Now, are you ready with that anchor, Tom?"

"Ready, sir."

"Then up with it as quick as you can. Now go forward with that blanket, and the minute I get her head off a little, help her to swing clear round before the wind."

The crew obeyed orders perfectly, and in a very few minutes the _Ghost_ was running under a heavy press of India rubber blanket for the distant beach. She had fully two miles to go, but as she was sailing fast enough to keep out of the way of the sea, there was no doubt that she would cross the bay safely. It took all the strength which Harry and Tom possessed to hold the blanket, while poor Joe, with his back braced against it, had the satisfaction of knowing that if it blew out of the boys' hands, it would carry him overboard.

As they approached the shore, having passed the drifting spars on the way, the prospect was not encouraging. The sea was breaking heavily on the low edge of the meadow which lay between the bay and the sand-hills of the beach, and there was no cove into which the boat could be run. There was nothing to be done but to anchor and wait for pleasant weather. Accordingly, the blanket was taken in, and the anchor dropped about thirty yards from the shore.

"Now if the anchor holds as it ought to," said Charley, "we are all right."

"And if it doesn't hold," said Harry, "we shall be all wrong. It's going to hold, though, for there's a good sandy bottom here."

"I wish it was a mud bottom," said Charley. "The anchor would hold twice as well in mud. However, I'm not afraid that we shall drift, unless it blows a regular hurricane."

"Now's the time to mend the deck," remarked Tom. "We've got nothing else to do."

"What in the world made that mast go overboard?" asked Joe. "It didn't break, did it?"

"No," answered Charley. "Either something gave way at the step, or else it wasn't properly stepped. We ought to have made absolutely sure that we had stepped it right that day we got through Coney Island Creek. We weren't careful enough about it, and this is the way we are paid for it."

There were some small pieces of pine board stowed away in the boat, which Harry had taken along in order to split them up for kindling wood. With the aid of the few tools which the boys had brought with them, they contrived to mend the deck, so that with the help of a piece of canvas and a little white lead it would shed water. An ugly scar remained to show where the mast had torn its way out; but for all practical purposes the deck was as good as ever.

This work finished, dinner was made ready, and the boys began to think that riding out a gale at anchor was not half so tiresome as they had supposed it would be.

"There are our spars at last," exclaimed Joe. "I had made up my mind that they had missed the way, and had given up looking for us."

"There they are, sure enough," said Charley, "and a great deal too near us. First thing we know they will drift right down on us." So saying, he sprang forward and seized the cable, with the hope of giving the boat a sheer that would keep her out of the way of the wreck.

He was too late, for the spars drifted against the cable, and their weight, added to that of the boat, was more than the anchor could hold. The _Ghost_ began to drift slowly toward the shore. Nothing could be done, and the boys could only wait for the inevitable moment when the boat would strike.

"I told you I was bound to get wet some time to-day," said Joe. "You see I was right."

"Let's be glad that we've nothing worse than a wetting to dread," said Charley. "The water can't be more than three or four feet deep here, and we couldn't drown ourselves if we were to try. Why, it isn't up to my waist," he added, as he measured the depth with an oar. "Come, let's get overboard, and shove those spars out of the way. We may save the boat from going ashore yet."

They all instantly sprang overboard, and tugged manfully at the wreck; but it was too heavy and unwieldy for them, and they were too near the shore. The _Ghost_ struck while they were still in the water, and the sea instantly began to break over her.

"No help for it, boys," said Charley, cheerfully. "We're shipwrecked, and we must grin and bear it. Hurry up, and let's get these spars out of the way, and perhaps we can tow the boat off again."

The spars were finally shoved away from the boat, and then the boys tried to get her afloat by hauling at the cable, and by putting their backs against her and shoving with all their might. It was all in vain. She was hard and fast on the shore, and could not be moved.

Such things as could be easily taken out of her were carried ashore, to prevent them from getting any more wet than they already were. The mast, with the boom, gaff, and sail attached, was then dragged ashore, and the sail spread out to dry. While this work was in progress, Charley had noticed that the wind was gradually changing its direction, and was evidently about to back to the southwest. Before the afternoon was over it had done so, and as a result, the sea ceased to break on the shore where the _Ghost_ was lying, and she was finally got afloat, and bailed out.

"We're going to have rain before dark," said Charley. "I can feel it in the air. We'd better rig up our cabin, and get the things on board again, before the rain catches us. If we don't take care, Joe will get wet again."

"No, he won't," replied Joe. "He can't get any wetter than he is. Do you know, boys, I believe I'm getting to be like a sponge. I shouldn't wonder if I weighed two hundred pounds, with all the water that has soaked into me since the cruise began."

The _Ghost_, in the position in which she was now lying, was to a great extent sheltered from the gale by the sand-hills, and it seemed to the boys as if the wind had gone down. So strongly did Harry insist that the gale had blown itself out, that Charley proposed that they should all walk over to the sand-hills, which were not more than an eighth of a mile distant, and settle the question whether the wind had gone down, or was, as he asserted, blowing as hard as ever. So they made their way through the rank beach grass, and climbed the sand-hills. The first blast of wind convinced them that the gale had increased rather than diminished. The sea was a magnificent sight, and the surf was breaking on the beach with a noise like thunder. There were only two sails visible in the distant horizon, and the sky in the southwest was black with approaching rain. There could be no doubt that a wild and terrible night was at hand, and the boys went back to the boat feeling awed at the might of the elements, and somewhat oppressed by a feeling of loneliness and helplessness.

They had everything in order before the rain reached them, and though it came down in sheets, they managed to keep dry. They were not sleepy, and so they talked over the events of the day as they lay in their narrow but warm and comfortable cabin.

"By-the-bye, Charley, we haven't heard you say anything about Nina to-day," said Harry, mischievously.

"Who's Nina?" said Charley. "Oh, I remember--the girl we met yesterday. Why, what should I say about her?"

"Oh, nothing; only I was thinking that you'd probably forgotten all about her. Now Joe thinks that it would be a nice thing to get her to come on a cruise with us."

"That's nonsense. She couldn't go without her mother, and her mother wouldn't go without her father. We'd have to get a regular yacht, with state-rooms, and all that. Don't let's talk about girls, Tom. Did you ever see a canoe?"

"I've seen birches, if that's what you mean."

"No; I mean a wooden cruising canoe, such as the fellows that belong to the American Canoe Club have. Do you know that you can sail or paddle anywhere in a canoe, and sleep in it at night? That's the sort of thing to cruise in."

"I've seen one," said Joe. "It was a perfect beauty, all decked over, and with water-tight compartments to carry things in, and two masts. If you'll believe it, the whole thing, masts and all, didn't weigh over seventy pounds."

"Now if we had canoes," continued Charley, "we could cruise in any kind of water. We could come down a shallow river all full of rapids, or we could sail in deep water, and keep dry in any sort of sea. I'd like nothing better than a canoe cruise, and I wish you'd all think about trying it next summer."

The conversation was successfully turned from girls to canoes, and the boys discussed canoes and canoeing until they finally fell asleep, with the rain beating heavily on their canvas covering, and rattling like a constant shower of peas on the deck. They had been asleep for several hours when they were suddenly awakened by the heavy report of a cannon, fired apparently but a little distance from them.

[TO BE CONTINUED.]

WHAT ROBIN TOLD.

BY GEORGE COOPER.

How do the robins build their nest? Robin Redbreast told me. First a wisp of amber hay In a pretty round they lay; Then some shreds of downy floss, Feathers too and bits of moss, Woven with a sweet, sweet song, This way, that way, and across: That's what Robin told me.

Where do the robins hide their nest? Robin Redbreast told me. Up among the leaves so deep, Where the sunbeams rarely creep. Long before the winds are cold, Long before the leaves are gold, Bright-eyed stars will peep and see Baby robins one, two, three: That's what Robin told me.

RECKLESS SPARROWS.

BY JAMES OTIS.

Once upon a time, perhaps this summer, perhaps last, four reckless young sparrows lived in Central Park. Of course there were very many more of their kind there, but these four had formed a sort of club by themselves, and all the staid, respectable sparrows were really shocked by the way in which these youngsters behaved.

They would fly in on to the paths, picking up crumbs almost from beneath the feet of the visitors, and then fly back among the bushes, as if they believed they had displayed a wonderful amount of bravery. They twittered and chirped around the heads of the sacred cattle, and darted back and forth past the ostriches, until it was a wonder they were not killed.

Now these young sparrows never would take the advice of their elders, but continued in their wild ways, with a twitter that was very like a laugh whenever any of their relatives lectured them on the folly of recklessness and foolish daring.

Finally the time came when they felt they needed a change, and one of them proposed, while they were making an early breakfast from a fat worm that had come in their way just in time, that they all go down to the city for a regular lark.

With such a party as that, the idea was a good one, for it not only promised plenty of sport and adventure, but would show younger or more sedate sparrows what could be done by fellows who had the proper amount of courage.

At the risk of indigestion the worm was eaten hastily, and stopping only long enough to use a blade of grass as a napkin, they started on their journey, just a trifle confused by the noise and bustle, but determined that no one should know they had never been around the town before.

The busy sparrows in the streets, who were obliged to work industriously all day in order to get sufficient food, had very little to say to these young fellows who assumed so many foolish airs and graces, flying about first this way and then that, as if they had taken leave of their senses.

They flew down the streets among the horses, until they came near getting run over two or three times; darted around among the boys, until one came so near being caught that he lost two of his tail feathers in the struggle; and then the party seated themselves on the roof of a house to decide what was best to be done.

In a window almost opposite where they were sitting was a stuffed sparrow, mounted so skillfully that it looked as if it was alive.

It was not many moments before the party from the Park saw the motionless bird, and without a thought that it was dead, proposed to have some sport with the stranger.

"He's a terribly glum-looking fellow," said the youngest of the party. "Let's go over and wake him up."

"He sits there as if he owned the whole city," said another, "and it will do him good to let him know that there are some in town who amount to as much as he does."

"Let's all fly down at once, and scare him," proposed the third; and no sooner was the idea suggested than it was carried into execution.

Down the four flew with a rush, directly past the solemn bird; but instead of showing signs of fear, he never winked.

Then the visitors perched on the ledge of the window, daring the stranger to come out and knock them off, and making use of a great many unsparrowly remarks; but no reply was made.

"I'll go up and flirt my wings in his face," said the most reckless one of the party; "and if that don't make him speak, I'm mistaken."

Full of the idea that he was about to do some brave thing in thus attacking one poor lone bird, this impudent sparrow did as he had said he would, and great was the surprise of all four when the stranger tumbled over as stiff as a poker.

At first the party were afraid they had carried their sport too far, and committed murder. For a moment they were so frightened that their only thought was of flight; and then they noticed that the stranger had not moved a muscle since he had been struck, but lay with raised wings just as he had been sitting.

There was something strange about it all, for it surely did not seem as if a little blow like the one given could have killed the bird, and they ventured in to examine the supposed victim. So intent were they upon the examination that they did not notice that any one had entered the room, until they heard a low voice say, "Oh, Nellie, get some salt quick, and we can catch them all."

Their recklessness was gone as they looked up, and saw a little boy and girl coming directly toward them. How their hearts beat, and how frightened they were! They had heard their mother say that if they got salt on their tails they would surely be caught, and fastened in a cage, and they dashed around the room wildly in their efforts to escape, too much excited to fly directly out of the window at first.

They did manage to get out after a time, however, and when they went back home they were anything but a jaunty-looking party. One had scraped his wing against the wall until it bled, two others had lost nearly the whole of their tails, while the youngest had his feathers firmly glued down by syrup from the bread the little girl had in her hand.

It was a hard lesson for them, but it did them good; and to-day, if it were possible to find those young sparrows, they would tell you, if they could, that they had decided to listen to the experience of their parents rather than bear the possible suffering by trying to find out for themselves.

LANDING A RIVER-HORSE.

BY WILLIAM O. STODDARD.

"'What were we there for?'" said Uncle Marbury. "Why, we wanted to kill a hippopotamus."

"Was Mr. Lloyd a great hunter too?" asked Cal.

"Yes; he'd hunted all sorts of wild animals, and so had I. We could each say we'd killed lions and tigers and elephants, but we had never before gone after any hippopotami."

"Hippopotamuses? Were there any there?"

"That's where they belong. But don't say 'musses.' One is a hippopotamus. I killed five while I was there, and as soon as I had two of them, they were hippopotami."

"My!" exclaimed Robert, "I never heard that before."

Cal had his school atlas out on the table, and his finger was already pushing along up the west coast of Africa.

"There's Angola."

"Now find the river Coanza. There's any number of them, and they're all alike. Where are my spectacles?"

"I've got it," said Cal. "Was that where you found 'em?"

"They live along all those rivers. The banks are all woods and swamps and mud, and the rivers are just about fit for river-horses to wallow in."

"River-horses!" exclaimed Rob, who was staring at a cut of one in his Natural History. "He's no more like a horse than this house is."

"Well, no," said Uncle Marbury; "there isn't much horse about them, but they spend most of their time in the river, so half their name is correct. The first one I killed tipped over all our boats, so we had to swim for it."

"Did he get a bite at any of you?"

"It wasn't his fault that he didn't. We found out that fishing for river-horses was a serious piece of business."

"Fish for them? What! with a hook and line?"

"Not exactly. It was a good deal more like fishing for whales. Mr. Lloyd and I went after them with a lot of black hunters. We took our guns, and they took their harpoons, and such a time as we had you never saw."

Cal and Rob were getting a good deal waked up on the river-horse question, and their mother dropped her book in her lap, although she had heard that story once or twice before.

"Now, boys," she said, "don't interrupt your uncle. Let him tell it all his own way."

Cal and Rob looked at each other. Cal had at least three questions in his mouth, and Bob had two, all ready to ask, but they shut their lips hard, and Rob took a tight grip of his chair, so he shouldn't let go of those questions.

Uncle Marbury leaned back in his Sleepy Hollow chair, and went right on:

"The black men go for them in boats, with harpoons that they make themselves. They take a stout pole, of a hard, heavy wood that grows there, and cut it to about ten or twelve feet long and three or four inches thick. That's the shaft of the harpoon. The head is made of a tough piece of iron, thicker than my finger, and about a foot long. It has a barbed spear-head at the end, and when those barbs get under the tough hide of a hippopotamus, all the plunging and struggling he can do won't make them pull out.

"They bore a hole in the end of the pole just big enough to take in a few inches of the iron foot of the barbed head, and it fits loosely, so it'll come out. That's just what they want it to do. I'll tell you why. Just as soon as a hippopotamus is wounded, he turns to bite at the thing that hurt him, and if his great jaws and sharp teeth shut down on a piece of wood, they'd grind it to splinters, no matter how hard and strong it might be. If it was a rope, they'd cut it right off, and the hunters would lose their harpoon and their game too. So they leave the iron head loose, to come out, and fasten it to the pole by a sort of long band that is made of ever so many tough strong cords, not very large, any one of them, and these slip around among the teeth, and if some of them do get cut off, there are always enough left to hold by.

"The other end of the pole has a long rope, like a whale line, tied to it, and that is coiled up in the boat, and they let it run out or pull it in, just as they see fit.

"We had two of those harpoons in each of our boats, and all of the black men had spears, and Lloyd and I had double-barrelled rifles, and our first river-horse was almost too much for us in spite of them all."

"Did he fight hard?"

"Calvin!" said his mother.

"I'll tell you. Lloyd and I had a good yawl boat we had brought with us, and half a dozen black men to paddle, and there were two canoes, each with three black men in it, but we didn't bring any canoes home. Mr. Lloyd and I and my black servant were the only men in those boats that had any clothes on to speak of.

"Now, you see, boys, the hippopotami are a good deal like you--they have favorite spots along the river where they go in swimming, and sometimes a good many will go in together, and have a good bath of mud and water. The black hunters find out these places, but it wouldn't do to go straight for them. You'd only scare them away if you did that.

"Mr. Lloyd and I let the black hunters do things their own way; and they had made our camp, the night before, two good miles above one of these wallowing-places. So, when we started, we let the boat and the two canoes float down with the current, just steering them a little, and you never saw so many men keep so still. It was dreadfully warm, and we'd have envied the black men if it hadn't been for the mosquitoes. They didn't seem to mind them, but we were glad enough there were some spots on us where the ugly little scamps couldn't bite to do any harm. I believe, though, that my black servant would have stripped off his clothes if he hadn't been so proud of them. Suddenly one of the black hunters in my boat put his hand on my arm, and pointed at something a little ahead of the canoe on the left.

"It was something big and black coming slowly up through the water. A little pair of ears very wide apart; then the great eyes that seemed to stick right out; then the nose--there was no use in asking whose head that was. Just enough of his body followed above the surface to give the black hunter in the prow of that canoe a fair mark for his harpoon. He was close up when he threw it; and he drove it in good and deep, now I tell you. I felt sure it would stick, but it must have astonished that river-horse. He gave a tremendous angry sort of grunt and a great jump, and the head of the harpoon came out of the socket, just as it was meant to, and off he started down stream. He pulled that canoe along fast enough, and the rest of us paddled for dear life.

"I tried hard to get a shot at him, and so did Lloyd, whenever any of him showed above water, but our bullets must have glanced from his hard wet hide, if any of them hit him, and I'm not half sure they did.

"You've no idea at what a rate he managed to travel. It was hot work to keep anywhere near him. We wanted him to go ashore or into shallow water, where we could get at him. They're a good deal more dangerous in the water than they are out of it.

"He was more scared than hurt, though, and he didn't care a copper what we wanted; but in one of his turns he gave me a chance to put a rifle-bullet into his side."

"Did it kill him?" Both boys had spoken at once.

"No, it didn't kill him, but it made him angry, and just then one of the black hunters drove a spear into him.

"Then the fight began. He was furious with pain, and didn't seem to care any more for spears and bullets after that than I did for the mosquitoes. He dived and rose, and dived and rose, and tried every way to get at us, and the black men had to ply their paddles more than their spears.

"He snorted and squealed with rage, and made the water fairly foam for a few minutes, and then he tried a piece of cunning. He swam around under water for nearly a minute, and the harpoon rope was out so loose and long that we couldn't keep very close track of him.

"Suddenly the black hunters in one of the canoes gave a frightened yell, and sprang out. I saw a great gaping pair of jaws shutting down over the side of that canoe, and they crunched it in pieces as easily as you would bite through a brittle ginger-snap. He had spoiled the canoe at one bite, and then he dashed fiercely around in all directions, looking for the men. They swam well, but he'd have caught some of them if it hadn't been that the harpoon in him belonged to the other canoe, and the crew of that were hauling on it with all their might. The upset men scrambled into my boat, and Lloyd and I got some shots at the hippopotamus that weakened him. It was well we did, for they pulled too hard on the harpoon rope, and got too near, and in a moment more they too were in the river, and their canoe was being bitten to splinters. It was hard and dangerous work to save those men, but we did it, and our yawl was terribly crowded when they were all in. It began to look like a doubtful fight, for we had lost hold of the harpoon rope; but the hippopotamus had managed to bring us all nearer the bank, where the water was not so deep, and he had no notion of running now. He stood at bay a minute or so later, half out of water, and the black hunters sprang out, and went at him with their spears like heroes. I never saw such daring fellows; but Mr. Lloyd and I were doing all we could with our rifles, and the river-horse hardly knew which way to turn. Something was hitting him from every direction. I was just beginning to wonder if he could be killed at all, when he made a sudden turn and a rush, and over went our boat, and we too were sprawling in the river. I must say I felt a little queer when I went under; but when I got my head out again, there was the hippopotamus within ten feet of me, his mouth wide open for a bite, but staggering and falling over on his side.

"He went right to the bottom, but we didn't lose him. Some of the black men righted our boat, and some dived and searched for the guns and things, and found them, and some of them worked away at the hippopotamus till they got a strong rope hitched around his lower jaw. Then we all tugged and pulled till we had him half out of water, at the shore of the river. He was an enormous fellow, and more like a big black hog than like any horse I ever saw."

"Did the natives carry him home?" asked Cal.

"Well, yes, a good part of him. But they cooked and ate him first. They built a big fire on the bank, and kept on cutting off slices and roasting and broiling till I wondered when they'd stop."

THE DAISY COT.

A STORY In TWO PARTS.

BY MISS LILLIAS C. DAVIDSON.