iration of this resolve, he began to hum his favourite
tune. It made him feel better, and soon he was singing at the top of
his voice:

"Here I'll raise my Ebenezer,
Hither by Thy grace I'll come,
And I trust in Thy good pleasure,
Safely to arrive at home."

"My, them's great words!" he ejaculated, when he had finished.
"They've put new life into me already. Guess I'll sing 'em over agin.
There's nuthin' like a song in the night fer a sprained ankle."

As he lay there the storm gradually beat itself out, and rolled away in
the distance. From where he was lying he could look up at his own
house. Often he had turned his eyes in that direction, hoping to see a
light in the window. But not the faintest gleam appeared to cheer his
loneliness, so he knew that Martha and Flo must have remained at the
Hamptons. No doubt they would go home when the storm ceased. After
what seemed to him hours, he was rewarded by the sight of a light
flickering among the trees. It was a lantern, he was certain, and he
knew that John must be showing the visitors home. He watched it
longingly as it neared the house. Could he make himself heard? Rising
with difficulty to his knees, he lifted up his voice in several loud
calls for help. Then he watched, while his heart beat fast within him.
Again he called, and the light suddenly stopped. This was encouraging,
so with a great effort he gave one more mighty whoop, ere he sank back
exhausted upon the ground.

CHAPTER XIX

THE CAPTAIN GIVES ADVICE

"I can't really tell ye how it happened, Martha."

The captain was lying on the sofa in the sitting-room, with his injured
foot resting on a pillow. His wife had applied hot cloths to the
ankle, and rubbed it well with liniment.

"You must have tripped on something, Sam'l, as you were running," she
remarked. "It's a wonder you weren't killed. I hope to goodness you
won't get cold. Why, you were soaked to the skin."

"An' I might have been struck with lightnin', Martha. Jist think of
that."

"Indeed you might. Or you might have broken your leg."

"Or cracked me rib," the captain growled. "But I didn't, so what's the
use of worryin' about things that didn't happen. I'm here, with
nuthin' worse than a sprained ankle. You an' Flo had better go to bed.
I'm all right now. I want to stay right by this winder, so's I kin see
the river as soon as it gits light enough. I'm anxious to know whar
the 'Eb an' Flo' is ag