preciation of the compliment. They seemed to drift on and on for
hours and hours. The boy's imagination, fed by the wild tales from
Peter Fiddle--tales of shipwrecks at sea, and dead men's bones cast
upon haunted islands--, became a prey to every terror. There were
ghosts and goblins out here, and water fairies, that might spirit you
away to a land whence there was no returning; and there were those
other creatures so terrible that Peter had not dared even to describe
them, called "Bawkins." He shivered at the thought of them, and clung
to the dog, too frightened to cry out. He had been trying to pray in
broken snatches, but now, in his extremity of fear, he felt he must put
up a petition of more force. He scrambled to his knees and tried to
get Collie to join him by bowing his head. But Collie seemed of an
altogether irreverent nature, and only licked his little master's face
all the more. So the Lad gave it up, and, putting his hands together
behind the dog's head, whispered: "Oh, dear Lord, we're lost, me and
Collie. Please send Father and Peter Fiddle with the boat to find us.
Please don't let us get drownded or don't let the Bawkins get us. And
please don't mind Collie not prayin' right, 'cause he's only a dog, but
he's lost, too; and please bring us safe home. And oh, Dear Jesus, I'm
sorry I came out alone to hunt for the pot o' gold, but I didn't know
it was so far, and please won't you make Daddy and Peter Fiddle hurry,
'cause I'm so cold and so hungry and my arm's awful sore and I can't
paddle no more. And please, if Peter Fiddle ain't home yet and has
gone off and got drunk, won't you please send young Peter with Daddy.
And please send them in a hurry." He paused, but felt he must end in a
more becoming way. It was his first extemporaneous prayer of any
length, and he scarcely knew how to close. Then he remembered how Dr.
Leslie, in the church where he went every Sabbath with his father, was
wont to bring his morning petition to a close, so he added, "Only
please, _please_, don't let Peter Fiddle get drunk to-night--world
wifout end. Amen."

There were some more tears after that, but not such bitter ones; for
Angus McRae's son could not but believe that God heard prayer, and he
waited for his answer in a child's faith. "He's sure to send Daddy
soon, Collie," he said comfortingly; and then, quaveringly, after a few
moments of intense listening and waiting, "It wouldn't be like God not
to, now,