oth if we're not to see the morning
light!--Ah, are ye back, Dan Dolan?" as his eyes fell upon the wandering
sheep of his flock standing beside him. "May God forgive ye for this
night's work! It was the looking for ye that killed me entirely."

"O Brother Bart, no, you're not as bad as that!" said Dan, remorsefully;
"but I'm down here now to take care of you and Freddy, and you see if I
don't do it right."

And Dan, who in the old days of Tabby and the blue teapot had watched with
and waited on Aunt Winnie through many a night of pain, proved as good as
his word. It was as close and hot and stuffy as he had foreseen; the big
boat plunged and rolled so that it was hard to keep his footing; at times
he himself grew so sick that he could scarcely steady his helping hand,
but he never gave up his job. He bathed poor Brother Bart's aching head
with all a woman's tenderness; bandaged Freddy's throbbing temples with
the cold compress that sent him off to sleep; made dizzy forays into
unknown domestic departments for cracked ice and soda water; shocked
Brother Bart out of what he believed his last agony by reporting everyone
on the boat in "the same fix."

"We'll be in smooth water, the men say, by morning; and then you'll be all
right, Brother Bart. Let me bathe your head some more, and try to go to
sleep."

And when at last Brother Bart did fall asleep in the grey glimmer of the
early dawn, it was a very pale, shaking, dizzy Dan that crept out on the
open deck beyond the staterooms for a breath of fresh air. He could not
have climbed to forbidden heights now even if he would. But they were in
smooth waters, and the boat was pushing onto a sandy point, where a branch
railroad came down to the shore. A dozen or more passengers were preparing
to land; among them was Mr. Wirt, with a gun slung to his shoulder, a
knapsack on his back, and his two great tawny dogs pulling in their
leashes impatiently,--all evidently ready for a summer in the wilds.

Dan felt too weak and sick for conversation until Mr. Wirt's eye fell upon
the pale, trembling boy, who, with head bared to the morning breeze, was
clinging weakly to an awning post.

"Why, hello, my lad!" said the gentleman. "What's the matter. I thought
you were all right when I saw you last up above."

"I was," answered Dan, grimly. "But I came down, and, jing! I've had a
night of it, with Brother Bart and Freddy both dead sick on my hands."

"And you nursed them all night?"