‘Where do ye live, mate?’ asked one of the sailors from the tug.
‘At Grayfleet, master,’ answered Luke, sobbing, and still chafing the cold limp hand. ‘And oh, mates, do take him aboard, and get him home quick, and then mayhap he won’t die.’
The men agreed to take the two men on board, especially as their course lay past Grayfleet. Nevertheless, as they looked on the face of Uncle Mark, they firmly believed it to be the face of a corpse. But after they had got him aboard the tug, stripped him of his wet clothes, and administered some restoratives, he heaved a little sigh, and opened his eyes.
‘Luke, mate,’ he said, recognising his brother, ‘try and say a prayer for me. I doubt I’m a dead man!’
CHAPTER V.—UNCLE MARK SAILS UP THE SHINING RIVER.
All that night Madeline, sleeping peacefully, had been dreaming happy dreams. Her little feet had been pattering through the busy streets of the Golden City; her wondering eyes had been feasted with all the gay sights, her ears with all the gay sounds, which the wondrous ways afford. When she awoke in the morning, she was a little disappointed, and a good deal astonished, to find herself in her little room at home.
It was broad daylight, and Madeline thought it must be late; Mrs. Peartree stood at the window, gazing dreamily forth. Madeline lay for a time and watched her; then she said suddenly:—
‘What are you looking at, Aunt Jane?’