SHORT-HANDED. 241

you needn’t be afraid of his doin’ you any harm, an’ I
reckon a panikin of soup would go down his throat mighty
handy.”

«Would you be so kind, sah, as to des take it —”

“Not a bit of it!” Bob interrupted, angrily. “After
I’ve been dodgin’ bullets an’ knives for the last two
watches, owin’ to that villain, I don’t count on turnin’ to
and playin’ the nuss for him.”

«But —”

“There’s no use talkin’ "bout it, uncle, so we won’t say
anything more;” and Bob walked rapidly away as the
most effectual method of putting an end to the conver-
sation.

Eliphalet remained hidden from view in the galley at
least ten minutes, and then he could have been seen hur-
rying toward the forecastle with a basin of steaming liquid,
which gave forth a most appetizing odour.

In fear and trembling he descended the forecastle
ladder, gave one nervous glance at the wounded mutineer
in the bunk, and then held toward him the basin at arm’s
length.

«What is it?” Bart asked, wonderingly.

“T des brung some ob de soup, wha’ de cap’n done
order fur de mate, kase its good fur sick folks.”

« And you’re afraid to come near me with it, eh? Do
you think I’m sich a hard case that I’d put a knife inter
a man what was tryin’ to do mea favour?” Bart asked,
bitterly.

“T’se in ’er hurry, an’ dat’s why I couldn’ stop,” Eliph-