"Who could have been so cruel as to poison the innocent creatures?" asked Dan sorrowfully.
"That damned copper-colored eon of a thief who cooked for me!" replied the Old Sailor excitedly. "You saw him when you were on my ship. He had rings in his ears."
"I remember. He was a Lascar, you told us."
"The treacherous dog!" exclaimed the Old Sailor wrathfully, dabbing his face. "But I did what was right to him. I flogged him with a rope's end till he couldn't stand."
"He knew that Joshua gave you the birds, sir?"
"Ay, he knew it. To tell you the truth, my lad, I christened the birds Josh and Dan, and used to call them by their names. They were as sensible as human beings, and I gave them decent burial. I sewed them in canvas, and weighted it with shot, and slipped it off a plank. I'll not have any more of them, Dan. That lubberly thief would crawl on board one night and murder them too. No, no, my lad; no more birds for me."
"Well, then, I'll tell you what we'll do," said Dan. "I will give you another pair of birds, and I will keep them for you, and you will come here sometimes and see how they are getting along. That's a good idea, isn't it, sir?"
The Old Sailor admitted that it was, and thus it fell out that he became a visitor to the house. Dan bought a toy ship, with sails and masts and slender ropes all complete, and taught the birds to climb the ropes and masts, which they did deftly, although not in sailor fashion, hand-over-hand; and his thoughtful conceit filled the Old Sailor with infinite delight.
It was Susan's good fortune not to meet the Lascar for many months after the eventful occurrence in which Joshua had played so prominent a part. But one evening, when she and Ellen were returning home, she met him face to face.
"Stop!" cried the Lascar, noticing Susan's agitation with secret pleasure. "You don't forget me, do you?"