“What did you say?”
“I told him you were my dearest friend.”
“Well, so I am, Bob; only you will get so restive.”
“Yes, I always was a restive little beggar,” said Bob. “To-morrow morning then, and—”
“Captain coming, sir.”
“Landing-place at daybreak, Tom. Cut,” whispered Bob; and the young ensign rose and leaped ashore, buttoning up his little golden-pill buttons, as Captain Horton came down the path, and answered his salute with a friendly nod.
The next minute the water was flashing like fiery silver from the blades of the oars, and the gig returned to the steamer’s side, where Bob began to prepare for the next day’s trip, taking it for granted that he could get leave.