"Mate, then, a'n't he?"

"He is not a sailor at all."

"Ha'n't never ben to sea?"

"Never."

Oh, the look of wide-mouthed astonishment which took possession of
Youth's hitherto vacant features, at thus encountering a strong-looking
man, in the prime of life, who had never been to sea, and a healthy,
sturdy boy, whose parents did not mean that he ever should! He had no
more to say; every faculty was, for at least an hour, devoted to the
contemplation of these _lusus naturæ_, thus presented to his vision.

At last, the road, which had long been in a condition of ominous
second-childhood, suddenly died a natural death at the foot of a steep
hill, where a rail-fence presented itself as a barrier to farther
progress. The bars were soon removed by Youth, who triumphantly
announced, as Cha-os walked slowly through the opening thus presented,--

"Now we're on Ga'ed, an' I'll run along and take down the next bars, if
you kin drive. Git along, Tom,--you ha'n't got nothin' but two feathers
ahind you now."

"How far is it to the Light-house?" inquired Mysie, faintly.

"Ony 'bout four mild," was the discouraging reply, as Youth "loped" on
in advance.