'Don't forget the tea, cook,' one of them said to Charlie as he climbed up on deck. 'Let's have it before we start hauling.'

Thanks to the trimmer the kettle was boiling, and Charlie was therefore able to bring the men mugs of hot tea in less than five minutes from turning out.

'Cook is one of the right sort, after all,' one of the fishermen declared as he returned his empty mug to Charlie, and the others a.s.sented by nods and grunts. But before long Charlie was again in hot water. As he was a.s.sisting to haul in the net he sneezed loudly. In a moment one of the fishermen placed his big, dirty hand over his mouth and effectually prevented him from sneezing on the net again.

The skipper, looking down from the bridge, broke into loud abuse.

'What harm is there in sneezing?' Charlie answered, angrily.

'None of your back answers, or I'll clap you in irons.'

'If you do, you'll have to pay for it dearly when we get back to Grimsby. I insist upon knowing what harm I have done.'

'It is thought very unlucky to sneeze on a trawl,' the mate explained quietly, anxious to save Charlie from any further bullying. 'It is supposed to bring bad luck to the trawler. Now, grab hold of the net.'

Charlie again tugged at the net, and, when the catch was emptied into the pound, it was found that it was an exceedingly small one.

'That comes of having you aboard!' the skipper declared, pointing at Charlie.

'I don't see how my sneezing could have affected this catch,' Charlie answered, 'considering that it was almost on board when I sneezed.'

'But how about your sou'-wester last night? That was what ruined this catch, and your sneezing will spoil the next one.'

Charlie laughed openly at this prediction, but it was rather unfortunate for him that, when the next haul was made, it was found that the catch was still smaller than the previous one.

'I told you so!' the skipper declared, white with rage.

'It is a coincidence,' Charlie replied, calmly. 'If I sneeze on the net now you will probably have a fine catch next time.'

'No back answers. Don't you try to teach me anything. Get away to the galley at once, and be careful what you do.'

Charlie returned to the galley, hardly knowing whether to be angry or amused. It was very galling to have to submit to the abuse of an ignorant, bl.u.s.tering fellow like the skipper, but, at the same time, he could not take the man's superst.i.tion seriously.

'I would not have believed, unless I had seen the skipper, that it was possible for there to be such a superst.i.tious Briton living at the end of the nineteenth century,' Charlie said to the mate, about half an hour later.

'Oh, there are many like him in the North Sea,' the mate answered, 'and all the arguing in the world won't convince them of their foolishness.

After a time you will not find his ignorance and superst.i.tion amusing.

However, what I want to say to you is this: the men in the foc's'le declare that the grub isn't well cooked, and that you haven't given them plum duff yet. You must let them have it to-morrow.'

'I will,' Charlie declared, as if plum duff were the easiest thing in the world to make.

When the mate left him, Charlie took out the bow-legged cook's written instructions to see what ingredients were necessary. His idea was to make and boil the pudding that evening, so that, if it turned out a failure, he would have time to make another one. If it proved to be a success, he would be able to warm it up on the following morning. But, just as he began to read the recipe, he noticed that the fire had burnt low and needed instant attention. In his anxiety to prevent it from going out, he put down the flimsy little book and began shovelling coals on the fire. While he was doing that a gust of wind swept through the galley, and carried the recipe-book out through the porthole and into the sea.

Charlie, gazing out at it, saw it float for a moment or two, and then lost sight of it.

'Well,' he muttered, ruefully, 'I don't know how I am going to make plum duff now!'

(_Continued on page 238._)

THE TRUMPET AND THE DRUM.

Said the Trumpet to the Drum: 'Less noise, good fellow! come!

For n.o.body can hear My voice, when you are near.'

'Boom! boom!' the Drum replied, 'The fault is on _your_ side; You blow with such a sound That _my_ poor voice is drowned.'

And after that, all day They blew and boomed away, In contest so absurd That _neither_ could be heard.

Now, when you want to speak, O children, never seek To drown in noisy tone All voices but your own; But learn to shun in life The Drum and Trumpet's strife.

JIM'S SHOWER-BATH.

The kitchen was very hot, and Aunt Christy, the old black cook, was very busy. With her sleeves rolled up above her elbows, and her cap all awry, she bustled about, hurrying the slow movements of the girls who were her helpers, and scolding the four little dusky children whenever they got in her way. She declared that they were all as full of mischief as they could be, and that there was not a pin to choose between them. But if one of the four _did_ happen to be worse than the others, that one was certainly Jim.

Jim was nearly seven; his young mind was full of eager questions; he wanted to know the reason of everything, and it was really because he was so curious and prying that Aunt Christy thought him worse than the rest.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "Jim got a terrible drenching."]

On that morning he poked about the kitchen, opening baskets and peering into dishes, until his eyes fell upon a large bright pail, which was set upon a stand too high for him to reach.

'That's a new pail. Why's Aunt Christy got a new pail? Wonder what's in it? I will see.'

So said Jim to himself; and when he found that, even by standing on tiptoe, he could not reach, the little rascal trotted off for his three-legged stool, mounted on that, put his chubby arms as far as they would stretch round the pail. A three-legged stool, however, is but a treacherous support, and this Jim found to his cost. As he stood there, it slipped from under his bare feet, and the pail, which was full of warm water and vegetables, suddenly overturned.

Poor Jim got a terrible drenching; it was lucky for him that the water was not very hot, or he would have been sadly scalded. As it was, a big turnip hit him on the head, and the handle of the pail hurt him. Wet and bruised he crept away, a sadder and a wiser boy, inwardly resolved to have nothing more to do with things which did not concern him.

C. J. BLAKE.

[Ill.u.s.tration: A Cliff-dwelling of North America.]

WONDERFUL CAVERNS.

VII.--THE CLIFF-DWELLERS OF NORTH AMERICA.

If you take a map of North America, and trace the line of the Rocky Mountains downwards, you come to the State of Colorado, with New Mexico and Arizona lying below; and if you tried to explore this country you would find yourself in a perfect network of mountains. In Colorado there are magnificent snow-peaks, with richly wooded valleys lying between them, whilst in New Mexico and Arizona the land is much more bare, mountain ridges, often covered with stones and pebbles, dividing flat table-lands of great extent.

Common to all three States are wonderful gorges, or splits in the cliffs, of immense depth. Sometimes from below one can hardly see the sky between the precipices; at other times the gorge may open out into quite a broad valley; but, whether narrow or wide, we may be quite sure that wherever there is a canyon (as these rock-splits are called in Western America) there will be a river running down it.