oper allowance of hard-bread. It was a luxury to be able to eat
all he wanted, with no anxiety on his mind. He went to work to put the
boat in order for the trip up the lake to Burlington. While he was
overhauling her, he came to a bottle half full of whiskey. Possibly the
other half of its contents had caused the upsetting of the Goldwing, the
fault of which had been charged upon the boat. He emptied the bottle
into the lake, and finished his work on board.

He hoisted the sails; and, getting in the anchor, he shoved the schooner
off the beach. Going to the northward of the island, he found that he
could just lay his course to the Gut. As the sun rose higher, the wind
freshened; and he had an eight-knot breeze all the forenoon. His return
was without incident; and as the first bells were ringing for church, he
landed at Plattsburgh.

He reported to the landlord at the Witherill House. He thought this
gentleman looked very serious, when he expected to be greeted as a
successful skipper after his cruise. He had no doubt Peppers had arrived
with his prisoner, and the story of his trip must be known. The first
thing the hotel-keeper did was to hand him a ten-dollar bill, as his
reward for the capture of Pearl Hawlinshed.

"You have earned your money, Dory; and there it is," said the landlord,
as he handed him the bill.

"I suppose Mr. Peppers has arrived," added Dory, as he put the money in
his wallet.

"Yes: he got back about half-past seven this morning. You had a rough
time of it with Hawlinshed."

"Yes, sir: he got the bulge on us at one time," answered Dory, laughing
as he thought of the exciting scenes of the day before.

But the landlord did not laugh, as he had always done before. He looked
very serious; and the skipper wondered if he had been charged with any
other crime, his friend looked so coldly upon him. The landlord pulled
out his watch, and then shook his head.

"Have you been to breakfast, Dory?" he asked.

"Yes, sir: I had some ham and hard-bread."

"I should ask you in to breakfast; but I am afraid you ought not to stay
here any longer," added the hotel-keeper. "It is nine o'clock now, and
you will be late."

"Late? Late for what?" asked Dory, astonished at this remark, which he
could not comprehend.

"Late for the funeral," replied the landlord in a subdued and gentle
tone.

"The funeral? What funeral?" asked Dory, with his heart in his throat.

The landlord looked at him in silence fo