“Some of ’em starve in garrets, though; I’ve read about it.”
“It’s because they’re not good artists, then,” said Aleck, with an air of superior wisdom.
“Now, you chaps,” remarked Jack, “I move that we get out in the stream a bit. Those tramps may take it into their heads to come back and throw a few rocks.”
“That’s right,” agreed Joe. “Up anchor, jolly tars.”
The “Gray Gull” soon drew away from the shore and was brought to a stop at a safe distance. The weather was dull and gloomy, and the opposite hills were almost swallowed up in the heavy atmosphere.
By and by Jack lighted the red and green lanterns, and, feeling secure and content, they retired within the cozy interior and had their supper in peace and comfort.
Finally Aleck opened the door and stepped out upon the deck.
“Say, fellows!” he called, “we’re up in the air.”
“You are, maybe,” grinned Joe.
“No—honest, the anchor must have pulled loose, and we’ve floated off. Makes me dizzy. Who knows but what we’re a mile high by this time?”