“No!” exclaimed George, emphatically, “I wasn’t asleep; I hadn’t even made my bunk up.”
The Sergeant re-appeared in a few minutes with his boots and pants on, and the two men wended their way to the riverside where the Greenwich lay rocking gently on the night tide.
On the way down George went over the details two or three times.
“Where’s the line?” asked the Sergeant, as they stepped aboard.
“Here,” replied George, leading the way aft.
“I thought so,” he said, as yard after yard came aboard without resistance. “You fell asleep and had a nightmare; nice thing to come and call a man out of his bed like this. I’ve ridden over thirty miles to-day.”
George vowed and protested that he had not been the victim of a delusion.
“I saw him as plain as I see you,” he answered, mentally assuring himself.
“There!” as the last yard of the line was drawn in, “what’s that! What’s that on the hook?”