"Mais, point du tout!" cried Duprez energetically. "It was charming!
It made us laugh at death--so much better than to cry! And there was
a delicious child in a winding-sheet; brown curls, laughing eyes and
little mouth; ha ha! but she was well worth kissing!"

"I'd rather follow ma own funeral, than kiss a lass in a winding-
sheet," said Sandy, in solemn and horrified tones. "It's just awfu'
to think on."

"But, see, my friend," persisted Duprez, "you would not be permitted
to follow your own funeral, not possible,--voila! Your ARE permitted
to kiss the pretty one in the winding-sheet. It IS possible. Behold
the difference!"

"Never mind the Taverne de l'Enfer just now," said Errington, who
had finished his breakfast hurriedly." It's time for you fellows to
get your fishing toggery on. I'm off to speak to the pilot."

And away he went, followed more slowly by Lorimer, who, though he
pretended indifference, was rather curious to know more, if
possible, concerning his friend's adventure of the morning. They
found the pilot, Valdemar Svensen, leaning at his ease against the
idle wheel, with his face turned towards the eastern sky. He was a
stalwart specimen of Norse manhood, tall and strongly built, with
thoughtful, dignified features, and keen, clear hazel eyes. His
chestnut hair, plentifully sprinkled with gray, clustered thickly
over a broad brow, that was deeply furrowed with many a line of
anxious and speculative thought, and the forcible brown hand that
rested lightly on the spokes of the wheel, told its own tale of hard