he other, "Is he a hidgit?"

"No, that I'm not!" cried the boy, speaking indignantly now. "I wanted
to say that I had no father and no mother."

"Then why didn't you say so at first?" growled the man. "But got no
father nor mother?"

"No, s--no, no!" cried the boy.

"You're a horphan, mate?"

"Yes--Jack Jeens, didn't you say you were?"

"Right, boy; and that shows me straight and plain that you ain't a
hidgit. Shake hands, mate. I'm just the same as you. I'm a horphan,
too, on'y I don't pipe my eye like you do."

The boy held out his hand, which the next moment lay, looking dimly
white, in the great, hairy paw which seized it.

"Leave crying to the women, my lad. Now then, what's the matter?"

The tears started to the boy's eyes again and he uttered a kind of gasp
as he strove to master the desire to sob aloud, and said in a broken
voice:

"I'm tired and cold and hungry."

"Eh? Then why don't you go home?"

"I have no home now," said the little fellow, sadly.

"That's queer agen," said the sailor, in quite a sympathetic tone now.
"You're a horphan like me, and now you've got no home. What, nowhere to
go and sleep to-night?"

"No--" said the boy, and the word "sir" nearly slipped out again.

"Why, you're quite a ship in distress, messmet, and it seems lucky
you've failed in with me. Hungry and out o' water, are yer?"

"Very hungry, please," said the boy; "but I found some water over there,
running by the roadside, before it was dark, and I drank some."

"Ah, that's why it came out o' them eyes o' yourn like a shipped wave
out o' the scuppers. Well, I got a shot or two yet in the locker, so
come along o' me and I'll get yer something to eat, anyhow. Here, hook
on to my fin."

The man's tone was so friendly, and he held out his hand in such a
kindly way, that the little fellow caught at it eagerly, and with the
darkness thickening fast, began to trot beside his new friend as he
strode off, but only to totter breathlessly at the end of a few minutes
and then stumble, ready to fall but for the strong arm which dragged him
up.

"Why, hillo!" cried the man. "What's this here?"

"I--I don't know," said the boy, feebly. "I'm so tired--and my feet
hurt--and--and--and I can't go any farther, please. Don't be cross with
me, sir; I can't help it--I'm obliged to cry."

His legs sank beneath him as he spoke and doubled so that he naturally
came down upon his knees, and raising the hand that was