y removed the pebble from
his mouth, and then with a wild cry threw out his arms and clutched at
his throat.

"What's the matter?" cried Bassett, as the boatswain sprang to his feet.

"The stone," cried Mr. Walters, in a strangulated voice; "it's stuck in
my throat."

Bassett thumped him on the back like one possessed. "Cough it up!" he
cried. "Put your finger down! Cough!"

The boatswain waved his arms and gurgled. "I'm choking!" he moaned, and
dashed blindly into the inn, followed by the alarmed boy.

[Illustration: I'm choking 116]

"Pot--six ale!" he gasped, banging on the little counter.

The landlord eyed him in speechless amazement.

"Six ale!" repeated the boatswain. "Pot! Quick! G-r-r."

"You be off," said the landlord, putting down a glass he was wiping,
and eying him wrathfully. "How dare you come into my place like that?
What do you mean by it?"

"He has swallowed a pebble!" said Bassett, hastily.

"If he'd swallowed a brick I shouldn't be surprised," said the landlord,
"seeing the state he's in. I don't want drunken sailors in my place;
and, what's more, I won't have 'em."

"Drunk?" said the unfortunate boatswain, raising his voice. "Me? Why, I
ain't--"

"Out you go!" said the landlord, in a peremptory voice, "and be quick
about it; I don't want people to say you got it here."

"Got it?" wailed Mr. Walters. "_Got it?_ I tell you I ain't had it. I
swallowed a stone."

"If you don't go out," said the landlord, as Mr. Walters, in token of
good faith, stood making weird noises in his throat and rolling his
eyes, "I'll have you put out. How dare you make them noises in my bar!
Will--you--go?"

Mr. Walters looked at him, looked at the polished nickel taps, and the
neat row of mugs on the shelves. Then, without a word, he turned and
walked out.

"Has it gone down?" inquired Bassett presently, as they walked along.

"Wot?" said the boatswain, thoughtlessly.

"The pebble."

"I s'pose so," said the other, sourly.

"I should think it would be all right, then," said the boy; "foreign
bodies, even of considerable size, are often swallowed with impunity.
How is your thirst now?"

The boatswain stopped dead in the middle of the road and stood eying
him suspiciously, but the mild eyes behind the glasses only betrayed
friendly solicitude. He grunted and walked on.

By the time the Fox and Hounds came in sight again he had resolved not
to lose a reputation which entailed suffering. He clapped t