pour. We were grateful for the shelter of the stifling little cabin of the canal-boat, where "Billy" snored, and "Billy's" dog had convulsive dreams, in one of which he plunged over Guiteras, and scratched his face.
It was about five next morning when we started. I was half asleep in the cabin when I heard a man shout from the tow-path.
"Johnnem, did you hear about Mike?"
There was something in the man's tone that made me sit up and listen.
"What about him?"
"He's down there on the lock—drowned!"
"God!" hissed Jonnnie Curran, as if he had been struck by a missile. "Drowned, you say?"
"Dead! We took him out of the canal last night. He fell in comin' aboard. Poor Mike!"
When we came to the lock, Johnnie Curran jumped ashore and joined the group of canal-men, who stood near the body. They moved aside to let Johnnie see; and he stood with folded arms a full minute looking down at Mike. Then he drew a long breath, and turned away, rapidly brushing his eyes with his hand, and came aboard. He went on with his work without a word, though it was obvious that the dead man had been an old and close friend.
We crossed the river in Johnnie Curran's boat,
