the forty-
three ton gun been killed or materially injured when it burst, these
thoughtless juniors believed they would have "received a step" on the
list, or in other words, would have been probably promoted--which Bob
thought extremely wicked and reprehensible on their part.

After the explosion, of course, there was no more gun-practice, the
_Archimedes_ slowly making her way back to Spithead, and then into
harbour; the broken breech of the unfortunate weapon that had come to
grief being carefully covered over with a piece of tarpaulin, so that
those on board an Austrian frigate lying in the roadstead, which the
ironclad had to go by, should know nothing of the burst, at least from
passing observation. We do not like to show our failures to our
friends--only our successes!

The Captain and Bob, naturally, got back all the sooner from the trial
trip of the _Archimedes_ being thus cut short, reaching "the Moorings,"
indeed, just as Mrs Gilmour and her guests were going out for a stroll
before dinner; when, Rover pranced up to his young master, all affection
and oblivious of any "hard feelings" he might have entertained by being
left behind in the morning, repeating his magnanimous conduct on a
previous occasion!

"By Jove!" cried the Captain jocularly, addressing Bob's father. "That
son of yours is bound to turn out something great."

"Really, what's he been doing now?"

"Why," replied the old sailor with his customary chuckle, thumping the
pavement with his malacca cane to give greater emphasis to his words,
"he was half-drowned almost the first evening he came down here; was
wrecked in the poor _Bembridge Belle_ the other afternoon; and now, to
complete the category, has been blown up to-day."

"Boys are like cats," said the barrister smiling. "They all seem
endowed with the same proverbial number of lives."

"How funny, Bob," observed Nellie here. "Papa says you're like a cat;
so, you must be like Snuffles!"

Bob, however, did not appear to see the joke of this; though it afforded
his sister much amusement, which was increased anon by the Captain
asking her a question.

"I say, Miss Nell," he cried out in his jocular way, chuckling the
while, "what colour is this celebrated cat of yours, Snuffles?"

"He's black all over, Captain," replied Nellie as distinctly as her
giggles would permit. "Only, he has four white paws, just as if he had
lamb's-wool socks on, like those mamma makes Bob wear in winter.