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240 friends were sure they wouldn't. Put up an awful howl, and just before we got under way Mr. Trimmer and party crawled into their row-boat and splashed back to San Marco."

"Well—what now?" asked Minot.

"I've made up my mind," said Wall. "Been intending to go back north for some time, and now that I've started, I guess I'll keep on going."

"Splendid," cried Minot. "And you'll take Mr. George Harrowby with you?"

Mr. Wall seemed in excellent spirits. He slapped Minot on the back.

"If you say so, of course. Don't know exactly what they can do to us—but I think George needs the sea air. How about it, your lordship?"

Poor old George, drooping as he had never drooped before, looked wearily into Wall's eyes.

"What's the use?" he said. "Fight's all gone out of me. Losing interest in what's next. Three hours on that blooming ocean with the rain soaking in—I'm going to bed. I don't care what becomes of me."

And he sloshed away to his cabin.