ake it out," said Pilchard. "I'll hide it under my piller,
and let him think he's 'ad his pocket picked."

"I won't 'ave nothing to do with it," said Steve peremptorily. "I don't
believe in sich games."

"Wot do you think, cook?" inquired Harry.

"I don't see no 'arm in it," said the cook slowly; "the fright might do
'im good, p'raps."

"It might be the saving of 'im," said Harry. He leaned over the sleeping
seaman, and, gently inserting his fingers in his breast-pocket, drew out
the canvas bag. "There it is, chaps," he said gaily; "an' I'll give 'im
sich a fright in the morning as he won't forget in a 'urry."

He retired to his bunk, and placing the bag under his pillow, was soon
fast asleep. The other men followed his example, and Steve extinguishing
the lamp, the forecastle surrendered itself to sleep.

At five o'clock they were awakened by the voice of Mr. Dodds. It was
a broken, disconnected sort of voice at first, like to that of a man
talking in his sleep; but as Mr. Dodds' head cleared his ideas cleared
with it, and in strong, forcible language straight from the heart he
consigned the eyes and limbs of some person or persons unknown to every
variety of torment; after which, in a voice broken with emotion, he
addressed himself in terms of heartbreaking sympathy.

"Shut up, Sam," said Harry in a sleepy voice. "Why can't you go to
sleep?"

"Sleep be 'anged," said Mr. Dodds tearfully. "I've lorst all my money."

"You're dreamin'," said Harry lightly; "pinch yourself."

Mr. Dodds, who had a little breath left and a few words still
comparatively fresh, bestowed them upon him.

"I tell you you haven't lorst it," said Harry. "Don't you remember
giving it to that red-'aired woman with a baby?"

"Wot?" said the astounded Mr. Dodds.

"You give it to 'er an' told 'er to buy the baby a bun with it,"
continued the veracious Mr. Pilchard.

"Told 'er to buy the baby a bun with it?" repeated Mr. Dodds in a dazed
voice. "Told 'er to---- Wot did you let me do it for? Wot was all you
chaps standin' by an' doin' to let me go an' do it for?"

"We did _arsk_ you not to," said Steve, joining in the conversation.

Mr. Dodds finding language utterly useless to express his burning
thoughts, sat down and madly smashed at the table with his fists.

"Wot was _you_ a-doin' to let me do it?" he demanded at length of the
boy. "You ungrateful little toad. You can give me that 'arf-suvrin back,
d'ye hear?"

"I can't," said t