t on the spar deck directly over the counter. It contained a
steering wheel to be used in case the wheel in the pilot-house should be
disabled. When the chill winds of May and early June were blowing off
the northern coast during the "Yankee's" period of cruising in that
vicinity, the after wheel-house formed a snug and comfortable retreat
for the men of the watch.

It was freely used for that purpose until the navigator chanced to
discover the fact. He forthwith issued orders forbidding any person to
enter the house, except on duty. His order, like many others, received
respectful consideration--when he happened to be looking. In the present
case we were so eager to hear the conclusion of the stories being
related by the rival yarn-spinners, that we were fain to brave
"Cutlets'" displeasure. Led by Bill and Tom, we piled inside.

"What I was trying to say," spoke up the former, getting the first
opening, "was that when Patrick reached the top of the stairs, something
struck him full in the chest, and two hairy arms were thrown about his
neck. The sudden shock sent him tumbling backward, and he fell kerflop!
down the steps. Up above, his wife was howling to beat the band, 'Mike,
Mike, ye spalpane! You do be killing your poor father. Och! why did I
live to see this day?' In the meantime the real Mike--for the one inside
was the escaped monk from the menagerie--had scooted for the police.
They came, a half dozen of them, and as they entered the front door--"

"Time!" chuckled "Stump." "Give Tom a chance."

"As I opened the front door of the little wooden house where we had
placed the body," said Tom, prompt to take advantage of the opportunity,
"I saw two gleaming eyes glaring at me from the inner room. I tell you,
my heart fell clean down into my boots."

"Should think it would," muttered the "Kid," peering about the
wheel-house with a shiver. "Ugh!"

"I dropped the lantern," resumed Tom, "and staggered back. Just then
a----"

"Half dozen policemen entered the front door just as Patrick and the
supposed Mike reached the bottom of the stairs," broke in Bill, taking
up the thread of his story. "Well, when the Irish coppers saw Pat with
the monk hanging around his neck they thought the old Nick had him. They
started to run, but the old woman reached the lower floor in time to see
both Mike and the monkey. She grabbed a broom, but the monk slipped
through the front door, and----"

"That's the end of your story. And