swered for a gangway, while coils of rope, carpenters'
tools, cans of pitch, and bits of iron, all in their place and
ship-shape, as Ben would have said, gave both a busy and maritime look
to the premises.

Everything was very comfortable in the boat-house, but Ben kept piling
on wood and raking out the coals with an iron bar, as if the heat and
light were still insufficient, when in fact he thought nothing of
either, but was making desperate efforts to work off the anxieties that
had beset him like so many hounds, ever since his interview with Lina.

"What can a feller do now?" he said, looking wistfully up to the models
of gun-boats, brigs, and clippers, that occupied the rude shelves and
brackets on the wall, as if taking counsel from them. "I have sarched
the woods from hill to hill, and nary a sign of her. She 'caint a gone
and fell through the ice, for it's friz two feet thick; and, as for
running away, or going for to kill herself, it wasn't in the gal to do
no sich thing. Ben Benson, you was a brute, beast, and two or three
sarpents to boot, not to tell the gal all she wanted to know. You
obstinate old wretch, you've gone and done it now, and no mistake. It's
as much as I can do to keep from knocking you on the head with a
marlin-spike, you sneakin' old sea-dog! What if she was dead now, friz
stiff agin a tree, or a lyin' in the bottom of the river, what would you
think of yourself, I'd like to know?"

Thus half in muttered breath, half in thought, Ben gave forth the burden
of his anxieties, till at last self-reproachful beyond endurance, he
seized a fragment of pine wood, and opening his jack-knife with
superfluous energy, began to whittle, as if his life depended on
sharpening the stick to a point.

He was interrupted by the crunching sound of snow beneath footsteps that
came in haste toward the boat-house. Ben cut a deep gash into the wood,
and sat motionless, with his hand on the knife, listening.

"It's too heavy--she never trod down the snow-crust like that, poor
bird!" and, resuming his work, Ben kicked the shavings he had made into
the fire, and flung the mutilated pine after them.

"Is't you, mister Ralph?" said Ben, rising as the door opened, and
seating himself moodily on a bench, that his guest might come to the
fire. "You look flustered, and out of sorts, but this isn't no place to
get ship-shape in. It's awful lonesome here, sin' that night."

"Then, you have heard nothing!"

"No, not a wh