r, what is the matter with you?" said Marco at
last.

Forester said that he felt somewhat unwell, and as there was a sofa in
the room, he concluded to lie down upon it, and not go out. Marco was,
at first, disposed to stay and take care of him, but Forester said that
he did not need anything, and he wished Marco to go out and amuse
himself.

"You may go and see the mill," said he, "and the logs along the shore;
only be careful not to go where there is any danger; and come and let me
know when the boat is coming from the steamer to take us on board
again."

So Marco left Forester upon the sofa, and went away. He was sorry that
he was sick, and he was particularly sorry that he had to go himself
without company. But, concluding that he would adopt Forester's
principle of making the best of everything, in the events which occur in
travelling, he walked along the road, singing a tune which he had
learned at a juvenile singing school in New York, and watching the
pulsations of the steam, as it issued from the pipe at the mill.

As Marco walked along, it occurred to him that he had not, after all,
succeeded in acknowledging to the captain of the steamboat that he had
lost the bucket. And, since the first occasion for doing so had gone by,
he began to doubt whether it would be best for him to trouble himself
any farther about it.

"The bucket was not worth much," said he to himself. "Nobody knows it
is lost, except that boy, and he will not tell. I've a great mind not to
say anything about it."

In fact, Marco found that he was much less inclined to make his
acknowledgment now, than he was when the circumstance first occurred. He
wished that he had at once stated the facts to Forester, which would
have been his wisest course; but now, that the first occasion for doing
so had passed away, he began to feel disinclined to do it at all.

Marco soon reached the mill, and he amused himself, for half an hour, in
watching the movement of the engine, the strokes of the saw, and the
drawing up of the logs from the water to the floor of the mill. There
was a steep, sloping platform from the mill down to the river, and a
long chain extended down to the water. This chain was fastened to one
end of one of the logs, which lay floating there, and then, by means of
the machinery, it was drawn slowly up, bringing the ponderous log with
it.

The way in which the machinery drew up the chain was this: The end of
the chain, which was wit