“Who goes there?” cried Bart a third time, in a voice of deadly determination. “Speak or—I’ll fire!”
At this menacing and imperative summons there came a response. It came in the shape of a figure that stole forward in front of the doorway, slowly and carefully; a figure that disclosed to their view the familiar form, and the meek, the mild, the venerable, and the well-remembered face of Captain Corbet! Greeted with one universal shout of joy.
“Here we air agin, boys,” said the venerable commander, as he stepped inside, and looked all around with a scrutinizing glance. “We’ve ben together over the briny deep, an here’s the aged Corbet, right side up, in good health, and comes hopin to find you in the same.”
“Corbet! Corbet! Captain Corbet! Three cheers for the commander of the great expedition to Blomidon!”
And upon this there rang out three cheers as loud and as vigorous as could be produced by the united lungs of the five boys.
Captain Corbet regarded them with an amiable smile.
“Kind o’ campin’ out?” said he at last. “I thought by what you told me you’d be up to somethin like this, an I come down thinkin I’d find you; and here we air.”
“How’s the baby, captain?” asked Bart.
“In a terewly wonderful good state of health and sperits—kickin an crowin like mad; ony jest now he’s sound asleep—bless him. I’ve ben a-nussin of him ever sence I arrove, which I feel to be a perroud perrivelege, an the highest parental jy.”
“That’s right; and now sit down an sing us a song.”