e was a sudden splash, a rippling sound, and all was
still--so still, except for the mysterious murmur which always sounds
like whispers from another world at nightfall on the sea.

Again the sun rose, and again the silent sea was flooded with the rays
of the sun. The inhabitants of the little boat were too weak now to
speak much. Even Toby could scarcely wag his tail, but lay with his
head on his paws, gazing up to his master's face, questioning as to
what it meant--this faintness and weakness which seemed to be creeping
over him.

The dead gull lay untouched. There was not strength left to eat it,
even if there had been inclination.

Jack still grasped the oar, and still the poor blue jersey fluttered in
the breeze. But Colley lay at the bottom of the boat, breathing
heavily, though his eyes were open, and his rough weather-beaten hands
folded as if in prayer.

They had drifted far out in the Atlantic, but not in the direct line
hitherto of the many steamers which continually cross the great
dividing waters which lie between the Old World and the New.

Jack had ample time for thought, as the long weary hours went by. But
a stupor was fast creeping over him, and everything became dreamlike
and unreal. Even the images of his mother and Joy, which had been so
vivid, grew taint and indistinct, and he was scarcely conscious, when a
loud "Ahoy!" fell on his ear.

He started up, and there, at last, was a boat alongside of theirs.

"Wake up, boy!" said a cheery voice. "What's happened, eh?"

"Oh, Colley, Colley!" Jack cried, "we are saved, we are saved!" And
then from excess of joy and emotion he fell prone upon the prostrate
figure of the old sailor.

"A man, a boy, and a dog," said one of the boat's crew.

"Half-starved, I declare! Look alive, mates, and let's get 'em aboard
our ship as quick as may be. I told you this object we saw was a craft
of some sort, though you were so slow to believe me. A happy thing for
these poor creatures I got the boat lowered."

In another quarter of an hour two pairs of sturdy arms were pulling the
boat and those in it to the good ship _Claudia_, bound for the islands
of the Southern Seas.

CHAPTER X.

"_ONLY A LITTLE BOX._"

Uncle Bobo was sitting at the door of his shop one golden September
day, when the atmosphere of the row was oppressive, and his heart was
heavy within him.

Little Miss Joy was mending--so the doctors said; for Uncle Bobo had
declare