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 surge the chime of a bell, faint at first, but gradually more distinct, "One—two—one—two—one—two—one—two; a strange, lonely rhythm, but unmistakable.

"I take it that's the buoy on Leunggren's Rock!" exclaimed Mr. Eversham. "Our course is all right."

Every one drew an easier breath. Gerald was resting his head on Philip's shoulder, listening in almost perfect silence to whatever Philip, from time to time, said softly to keep him tranquil and even to make him think lightly of the perils of their situation. The boy sat up now and hearkened. "Yes, it's a bell, Philip; it's a bell! I hear it," he presently said. "It sounds like the church-bell at Ossokosee, don't it?" he added wearily—"just before Mr. Sprowers stops ringing it. I wonder how they will land us when we get to that place we're trying for."

But, as he spoke, a shriek, a dreadful shriek, broke from the lips of a woman opposite. She had carried a baby in her arms tightly wrapped in a shawl. Standing upright, she struggled frantically with those nearest her, who held her back from leaping over the gunwale. In