The Little Skipper | Page 2

glittering in the sunshine before you were half-way, but the Skipper had to stop twice.
"There's a nest up that tree," he said. "Wood-pigeon's. I could climb up there."
"See how dirty it would make your clothes," cried Dot.
"Well, they could be washed," said her brother, in his lordly way. But he thought better of the climbing, and they went on, with their feet slipping in the fir-needles, till Dot dropped one of the sticks she carried and caught at her brother's arm.
"What's that?" she whispered.
"Bird: woodpecker tapping. There it is again."
For a sharp sound was heard from close at hand, and directly after they caught sight of the little fellow that made the noise--a bright-looking bird with black and white markings and some scarlet feathers about its head.
The next minute it flew to another tree, and Dot picked up the stick she had dropped, and followed her brother out of the shady grove into the sunshine, to stand on the sandy shore of the beautiful lake of clear water, from which their home took its name of "The Pool House." One side of the broad piece of water was sheltered by fir-trees, but the other was open, and from where they stood they could look right across it to the deep blue sea.
"Can you see Papa's ship, Bob?" asked Dot.
"Of course you can't," cried the boy laughingly; "it's miles and miles away, at Portsmouth."
"Well, can't you see Portsmouth?" asked Dot.
"Of course not--without Pa's big telescope that he has on board."
The Skipper set down his ship in the sand, trimmed the sails a little, took out the boiler and half filled it with water, put it back, and took a box of matches from his pocket; Dot looking on with a face screwed up, from the interest she took in the business. Then a match was struck, while she held the straw hat to shelter the flame; and kneeling there, with the model's keel buried deep in the sand, the Skipper lit the lamp, but not without scorching the foresail a little.
The next minute the "Flash" was launched, but remained aground in the shallow water.
Dot knew her business, though, and handed her brother one of the sticks, with which he reached out and gave the vessel a good push, that sent it into deep water, where the light breeze filled out the sails, and away went the "Flash" toward the other side, while the two children started off to walk round past the penstock where the water was so deep, and where, during the past year Captain Trevor had brought his son to teach him how to swim, giving him lessons until he had felt brave enough to run out along the boards, and jump, head first, right out into the water.
When he could do that without feeling afraid, diving down ever so far toward the sandy bottom, and, coming up again ready to shake his head and follow his father, Captain Trevor told him he could swim.
Bob liked it then, but he never told his father how frightened he used to feel at first.
They were approaching this penstock, which was really a great square pipe, made of thick boards nailed to posts, and with a sliding door at the end, which could be pulled up to let some of the water run out when the pool was too full, and as they reached it, while the little vessel was sailing away nearly as fast as they could walk, Bob ran out to the end of the wooden drain.
"Oh! do mind!" cried Dot.
"Oh, yes! I shall mind," said the boy importantly; "but what a bother it is that the steam doesn't come. We'll bring a bottle of boiling water out of the kitchen with us next time."
"Yes," said Dot; "that will be the best way."
"And I shall take off the hatch----"
"What's a hatch?" asked Dot.
"Oh! what silly things girls are!" said the Skipper.
"That they're not," cried Dot, "I know. Of course: it's that box lid you open in the floor."
"Ha! ha! ha!" laughed the Skipper boisterously. "Box lid in the floor! Why, it's the hatch; and it isn't the floor, it's the deck; and I shall take it off and fill the hold with little lumps of coal."
"Oh, yes! I know that. It's called the 'hold' because it holds so much."
The boy took no notice, but went on:--"And I must have a big gun, like there is in front of Pa's ship, and a powder-magazine."
"But you mustn't let it off," cried Dot.
"But I shall let it off, and you may run away. Oh! what silly things girls are!" and he began to return.
Dot was pouting because she was called silly, but her pretty little face grew animated with trouble the next moment, for the Skipper was walking backwards, so as to keep