drawing out a sailors' oilskin pouch, one of the few possessions he had
been allowed by the police to retain, he took from it a piece of tobacco
which he began to chew. At the same time he eyed the rest of the
contents--half a ship's biscuit, some matches and a mariner's thimble.
The biscuit he broke, and threw a few crumbs, where the timbers were
dry, near the bird. For a long time it looked at the tiny white morsels;
but finally, conquering shyness, hopped from its perch and tentatively
approached the banquet. Hours went by; the man chewed; the bird pecked.

That night it rained in real, tropical earnest, and he made a water
vessel of his shoe, drank many times, ate a few mouthfuls of biscuit,
and then placed the filled receptacle where he had thrown the crumbs. As
he did so he found himself wondering if the dawn would reveal his little
feathered shipmate or whether it had been swept away by the violence of
the rain. The early shafts of day showed him the bird on its perch; it
had apparently found shelter from the heavy down-pour beneath some
out-jutting timber and seemed no worse for the experience. The man's
second glance was in the direction of the island; what he saw brought a
sudden exclamation to his lips. The land certainly seemed much nearer;
some current was sweeping them toward it slowly, but irresistibly. The
'Frisco Pet swore joyfully; his eyes shone. "I may do him yet!" he
muttered. The bird chirped; he looked at it. "Breakfast, eh?" he said
and tossed a few more crumbs near the shoe.

The second day on the floating bow, he brooded a great deal; the sharper
pangs of hunger assailed him; he grew desperately impatient, the
distance to the island decreased so gradually. A breeze from the coveted
shore fanned his cheek; he fancied it held them back, and fulminated
against it,--the beneficent current,--the providential timbers! A
feeling of blind helplessness followed; the sun, beating down fiercely,