for the cabin, still howling for a gun, and
fell with a great clatter down the companion way.

"Take my advice, Mr. Cooler," said Frank, who was laughing now, "get as
far away from this yacht as possible before Hans comes on deck again. He
has gone for a gun, and there are several below, all of them loaded."

"As I do not care to be filled full of lead, I will take your advice,"
said the man in gray, calmly. "Irishmen are very quick-tempered, and I
see I have ruffled this one somewhat. However, he proved very amusing
for a short time. Good-day, Mr. Merriwell. I hope to see you later. In
fact, I think I shall--Bill, you may set me ashore."

Bill, the boatman, was somewhat nervous, and he rowed away from the
yacht as hastily as possible.

The dory was not many lengths away before Hans came howling to the deck,
wildly flourishing one of Merry's shotguns.

"Shown me to him!" yelled Hans, almost frothing at the mouth. "Vere vos
der man vot caldt you an Irishmans? He vill shoot me in a minute uf I
see heem! Vere he vos?"

Then as he saw the dory pulling away, he rushed to the side of the yacht
and prepared to shoot, but Frank seized him and took the gun away in a
twinkling, saying, sternly:

"Are you crazy, Hans? Do you want to be hanged for murder? I never saw
you this way before."

"Dot man caldt me an Irishmans!"

"Well?"

"He caldt me Batsey?"

"A very natural mistake, considering that you have a face that is
strongly Irish in its general appearance and you have associated with
Barney Mulloy so much that you have acquired his brogue."

Hans gasped and staggered.

"Vot do you hear?" he faintly said. "Uf dot peen a fact, I vos retty to
shuffle off der mortal pucket und kick der coil! I don'd vant to lif no
longer ven I got to lookin' an Irishman like und dalkin' so I mistook
volks for von! My heart vos proken!"

Then, sobbing violently, he again staggered toward the cabin and once
more fell down the companion way.

Laughing heartily, Frank followed him, and found Hans lying where he had
fallen below.

"Are you hurt?" asked Merry, anxiously.

"Yaw!" sobbed Hans.

"Bad?"

"Yaw!"

"Where?"

"All ofer."

"Can't you get up?"

"I don't vant to got ub. I vant to die! Id vos my heart dot vos hurt.
Oh, shust to vancy dot my vace looks like an Irishmans! Mein Gott! id
vos awful!"

"Perhaps you can have your face changed, so do not take it so much to
heart."

"Now you peen shoking."

"No; in New