When the time came for "turning in," Joe spread his water-proof blanket on the sand close by the side of his canoe. He had dragged her several yards away from the rest of the fleet, so as to be able to make his bed on the highest and driest part of the sand, and to shelter himself from the wind by lying in the lee of his boat. The other boys preferred to sleep in their canoes, which were placed side by side and close together. The blazing logs made the camp almost as light as if the sun were shining, and the boys lay awake a long while talking together, and hoping that the wind would die out before morning.
Joe, whose sprained wrist pained him a little, was the last to fall asleep. While he had expressed no fears about the tide (for he did not wish to be thought nervous), he was a little uneasy about it. He had noticed that when the tide rose during the day it would have completely covered the sand-spit had it risen only a few inches higher. Long after his comrades had fallen asleep it occurred to Joe that it would have been a wise precaution to make the canoes fast to the bushes, so that they could not be carried away; but he did not venture to wake the boys merely in order to give them advice which they probably would not accept. So he kept silent, and toward ten o'clock fell asleep.
In the course of the night he began to dream. He thought that he was a member of an expedition trying to reach the North Pole in canoes, and that he was sleeping on the ice. He felt that his feet and back were slowly freezing, and that a polar-bear was nudging him in the ribs occasionally, to see if he was alive and ready to be eaten. This was such an uncomfortable situation that Joe woke up, and for a few moments could not understand where he was.
The wind had gone down, the stars had come out, and the tide had come up. Joe was lying in a shallow pool of water, and his canoe, which was almost afloat, was gently rubbing against him. He sprung up and called to his companions. There was no answer. The fire was out, but by the starlight Joe could see that the whole sand-spit was covered with water, and that neither the other boys nor their canoes were in sight. The tide was still rising, and Joe's canoe was beginning to float away, when he seized her, threw his blankets into her, and stepping aboard, sat down, and was gently floated away.
[to be continued.]
[SOME HINTS ON DOG TEACHING.]
BY EDWARD I. STEVENSON.
Any reader of the Young People who owns a dog, and who truly appreciates that animal's best qualities, should not suppose that the great end in educating his pet is getting him so familiar with half a dozen "tricks" that he will meekly perform them to the end of his life. Tricks are well enough as far as they go, but the grand object in teaching Towser or Jack should be the development in him of just as much general wide-awakeness and intelligence as is possible. One does not want by his chair in the winter, or on a summer-day's stroll a French performing poodle. He wants an affectionate, obedient, honest comrade—a comrade occasionally a servant, but always a friend.
This platform being adopted by Jack's master, let Jack himself from the first moment that he is taken in hand be made to feel two things. First, that the teaching is thoroughly a business that you and he are together interested in, and that its processes are all good fun and frolic, not work; secondly, that it is an affair of rewards and punishments. Jack's teaching must also be carried on with great regularity from day to day, and during only a few minutes of each day; no more. That Jack's teacher must be patient and good-tempered at his task, and that he must try to bring to it all the tact he possesses, need scarcely be said.