e mine," interrupted Eva.

"Mark! Is that your name? I had a friend once of that name, but you
are not a bit like him," exclaimed the stranger.

"The name I have always borne is that of Mark Seaworth," I answered,
remembering that I had good reason to suppose that it was not my real
one.

"Mark Seaworth! The very same; I ought to have known you at once; and I
am delighted to find you, old fellow. I am, by Jerico, Seaworth!"
exclaimed the stranger, grasping me by the arm, and wringing it till he
almost dislocated my shoulder in the warmth of his feelings.

"I also am indeed delighted to meet an old friend," I returned; "but,
for the life of me, in your present costume I cannot recall your
features."

"Ah! I quite forgot; this rather uncommon rig for an English gentleman
must somewhat have puzzled you," he answered, laughing. "Well, then,
you remember Blount, at old Liston's. I am the same, I can assure you,
Seaworth; rather transmogrified as to my outward man, I own." The voice
and turn of expression instantly recalled my old friend Walter Blount to
my recollection, and I returned his grasp with as hearty a shake as he
had given me.

We had, however, as he observed, very little time for explanations, as
it was necessary to beat a retreat before the allies of the tribe his
friends had attacked were aroused and able to follow them. The warriors
were now collecting from all parts, their work of vengeance being
accomplished; and under the escort of Blount, who assisted me in
supporting Eva, we proceeded towards the north in company with the
advanced body. As we skirted the borders of the lake we found a canoe
sufficiently large to contain three persons. As it would save Eva much
fatigue, I proposed to Blount to take it and to pull to the end of the
lake, where we might again place ourselves under the escort of the
warriors. As we were paddling swiftly along, he gave me a brief outline
of his history, after I had told him how I came to be in the position,
in which I was.

"You know, Seaworth, I was always a very wild fellow, and you used to
get me out of numbers of scrapes," he begun. "Well, at last I became
tired of school, and I did nothing but bother my friends to send me to
sea. I used to write round to every friend and relation I possessed,
once a fortnight at least--to the more influential ones oftener; till,
either to save their pockets the expense of postage, or because they saw
that my heart wa