order to smarten up the appearance of the poop-ladders.

On the fourth day Mr. Bunter looked decidedly better; very languid yet,
of course, but he heard and understood what was said to him, and even
could say a few words in a feeble voice.

Captain Johns, coming in, contemplated him attentively, without much
visible sympathy.

"Well, can you give us your account of this accident, Mr. Bunter?"

Bunter moved slightly his bandaged head, and fixed his cold blue stare
on Captain Johns' face, as if taking stock and appraising the value of
every feature; the perplexed forehead, the credulous eyes, the inane
droop of the mouth. And he gazed so long that Captain Johns grew
restive, and looked over his shoulder at the door.

"No accident," breathed out Bunter, in a peculiar tone.

"You don't mean to say you've got the falling sickness," said Captain
Johns. "How would you call it signing as chief mate of a clipper ship
with a thing like that on you?"

Bunter answered him only by a sinister look. The skipper shuffled his
feet a little.

"Well, what made you have that tumble, then?"

Bunter raised himself a little, and, looking straight into Captain
Johns' eyes said, in a very distinct whisper: