28 MARTIN RATTLER.

“Hell niver bate ye, Martin, avic, as long as
there’s two timbers of ye houldin’ togither.” The
seaman patted Martin on the head as he spoke; and,
turning to Bob Croaker, continued: “Ye ought to be
proud, ye spalpeen, o’ bein’ wopped by sich a young
hero as this. Come here and shake hands with him;
d’ye hear? Troth, an’ it’s besmearin’ ye with too
much honour that same. There, that’ll do. Don’t say
yee sorry now, for it’s lies ye’d be tellin’ if ye did.
Come along, Martin, an’ I'll convarse with ye as ye
go home. Ye'll be a man yet, as sure as my name is
Barney O’Flannagan.”

Martin took the white kitten in his arms and
thrust its wet little body into his equally wet bosom,
where the warmth began soon to exercise a soothing
influence on the kitten’s depressed spirits, so that, ere
long, it began to purr. He then walked with the
sailor towards the village, with his face black and
blue, and swelled and covered with blood, while
Bob Croaker and his companions returned to the
school.

The distance to Martin’s residence was not great,
but it was sufficient to enable the voluble Irishman
to recount a series of the most wonderful adventures
and stories of foreign lands that set Martin’s heart on

fire with desire to go to sea—a desire which was by