the letters, which
came less frequently. At last there arrived one from Shank, both the
style and penmanship of which told that he had not forsaken the great
curse of his life--strong drink. It told of disaster, and of going off
to the "Rockies" with a party of "discoverers," though what they were to
discover was not mentioned.

"From that date till now," said May in conclusion, "we have heard
nothing about them till this letter came from Mr Ritson, telling of
dear Shank being so ill, and asking for money."

"I wish any one were with Shank rather than that man," said Charlie
sternly; "I have no confidence in him whatever, and I knew him well as a
boy."

"Nevertheless, I think we may trust him. Indeed I feel sure he won't
desert his wounded comrade," returned May, with a blush.

The youth did not observe the blush. His thoughts were otherwise
engaged, and his eyes were at the moment fixed on a far-off part of the
shore, where Captain Stride could be seen urging on the joyful Scraggy
to his fruitless labours.

"I wish I could feel as confident of him as you do, May. However,
misfortune as well as experience may have made him a wiser, perhaps a
better, man. But what troubles me most is the uncertainty of the money
that Mr Crossley is going to send ever reaching its destination."

"Oh! if we only knew some one in New York who would take it to them,"
said May, looking piteously at the horizon, as if she were
apostrophising some one on the other side of the Atlantic.

"Why, you talk as if New York and Traitor's Trap were within a few miles
of each other," said Charlie, smiling gently. "They are hundreds of
miles apart."

"Well, I suppose they are. But I feel so anxious about Shank when I
think of the dear boy lying ill, perhaps dying, in a lonely place far
far away from us all, and no one but Mr Ritson to care for him! If I
were only a man I would go to him myself."

She broke down at this point, and put her handkerchief to her face.

"Don't cry, May," began the youth in sore perplexity, for he knew not
how to comfort the poor girl in the circumstances, but fortunately
Captain Stride caught sight of them at the moment, and gave them a
stentorian hail.

"Hi! halloo! back your to-o-o-ps'ls. I'll overhaul ye in a jiffy."

How long a nautical jiffy may be we know not, but, in a remarkably brief
space of time, considering the shortness and thickness of his sea-legs,
the Captain was alongside, blowing, as