it!"

Wave, little Star! wave your little blue apron from the rocks, and
laugh and clap your hands for pleasure, as the ripples from the
steamer's bow break in snowy foam at your feet. Bend to your oar,
Bob Peet, and send your little black boat flying over the water as
she never flew before! and press on, friendly _Huntress_, to your
port, whence the winged message may speed on its way to the stately
lady with the tender eyes, who waits for tidings in her distant home.

For Captain January's last voyage is over, and he is already in the
haven where he would be.


THE END.