times when I came on board?"

"Yes, I perceived that you did so."

"You never guessed why?"

"No; really I paid no particular attention to it."

"I 'll tell you, then," whispered he, still lower, "it was to look after
a horse I 've got there. 'Mumps,' that ran such a capital second for the
Yarmouth, and ran a dead heat afterwards with Stanley's 'Cross-Bones,'
he's there!" and his voice trembled between pride and agitation.

"Indeed!" exclaimed Conway, amused at the eagerness of his manner.

"There he is, disguised as a prize bull for the King of Belgium. Nobody
suspects him,--nobody could suspect him, he 's so well got up, horns and
all. Got him on board in the dark in a large roomy box, clap posters to
it on the other side, and 'tool' him along to Brussels. That's what I
call business! Now, if you wait a week or two, you can lay on him as
deep as you like. We'll let the Belgians 'in,' before we 've done
with them. We run him under the name of 'Klepper;' don't forget
it,--Klepper!"

"I've already told you I 'm unworthy of such a confidence; you only risk
yourself when you impart a secret to indiscretion like mine."

"You'd not blow us?" cried Annesley, in terror.

"The best security against my doing so accidentally is that I may be
hundreds of miles away before your races come off."

For a minute or two Beecher's misery was extreme. He saw how his
rashness had carried him away to a foolish act of good-nature, and had
not even reaped thanks for his generosity. What would he not have given
to recall his words?--what would he not have done to obliterate their
impression? At last a sudden thought seemed to strike him, and he
said,--

"There are two of us in 'the lay,' and my 'pal' is the readiest pistol
in Europe."

"I 'll not provoke any display of his skill, depend on 't," said Conway,
controlling, as well as he could, the inclination to laugh out.

"He'd tumble you over like winking if you sold him. He 'd make it as
short work with myself if he suspected me."

"I'd rather have a quieter sort of colleague," said Conway, dryly.

"Oh! but he's a rare one to 'work the oracle.' Solomon was a wise man--"

"What infernal balderdash are you at with Solomon and Samson, there?"
shouted out Grog Davis, who had just been looking after the horse-box in
the bow. "Come down below, and have a glass of brandy-and-water."

"I 'll stay where I am," said Beecher, sulkily, and walked away in
dudgeon from the spot.

"I t