"Stowaway?" echoed the captain.
"Yes, sir."
"Where did you find him?"
"Didn't find him, sir. He gave himself up just now. Says he's been hiding amongst the mail-bags. What shall I do with him, sir?"
"Tie him to a parachute and drop him overboard as soon as we are over the land again," shouted the captain in angry tones. "I won't have any stowaways aboard my ship."
This was said more to frighten the little imp than with real intent, though the air-skipper spoke in angry tones, as if he meant what he said. He was evidently very much annoyed at this discovery.
"He's half-frozen, sir," interposed the chief officer in more kindly tones.
"Humph! Of course he is," added the captain. "This keen, biting wind at three thousand feet above the sea must have turned his marrow cold. Besides, he hasn't enough clothes to cover a rabbit decently. Just look at him!"
The little chap's eyes sparkled, and his face flushed a little at this reference to his scant wardrobe. But he knew by the changed tone in the captain's voice that the worst was now over. He had not even heard a reference to the proverbial rope's-end, a vision which he had always associated in his mind with stowaways.
"My word, he's a plucky little urchin, Crabtree!" declared the air-skipper at length, his anger settling down, and his admiration for the adventurous little gamin asserting itself as he gazed at the ragged but sharp-eyed little fellow.