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 it perfectly. I began to see that here was one of the best of possible shipmates.

When we got to the inn, the squire and Doctor Livesey were seated together, finishing a quart of ale with a toast in it, before they should go aboard the schooner on a visit of inspection.

Long John told the story from first to last, with a great deal of spirit and the most perfect truth. 'That was how it were, now, weren't it, Hawkins?" he would say, now and again, and I could always bear him entirely out.

The two gentlemen regretted that Black Dog had got away, but we all agreed there was nothing to be done, and after he had been complimented, Long John took up his crutch and departed.

"All hands aboard by four this afternoon!" shouted the squire after him.

"Ay, ay, sir," cried the cook in the passage.

"Well, squire," said Doctor Livesey, "I don't put much faith in your discoveries, as a general thing, but I will say this—John Silver suits me."

"That man's a perfect trump," declared the squire.

"And now," added the doctor, "Jim may come on board with us, may he not?"

"To be sure he may," said the squire. "Take your hat, Hawkins, and we'll see the ship."