"An' the dog?"
The last question remained unanswered.
"Poor old Stanny's asleep," soliloquised Lessels. "I'll just cover him over with the nightshirts, an' the nugget bag what hasn't any nuggets in, so's he won't catch a cough an' keep me awake at nights. Then I'll lie down close to him, as I do in bed, an' have a west. I wish mamma was here to kiss me, an' I hope dad won't beat me harder than he can help!"
And in another moment absolute silence reigned in the camp, while the tide crept noiselessly and stealthily around the higher bank of sand which formed the children's Klondyke. The summer sun shone lovingly on a pair of still forms; and the warning to trespassers fluttered gently in the warm breeze.
THE MINERS' DREAM OF HOME.
When a wave, bolder than the rest, broke against the bare feet of the younger miner, he awoke with a cry of alarm.
"Wake up, Stan! We're both drownded!"
"What's the matter?" demanded Stanley, sitting up and rubbing his eyes.
"We're in the miggle of the sea!" was the startling answer. "Our camp's all wet an' miserable, an' we can't shwim home, an' it's no use shoutin', cos there's nobody on the beach!"