clusion that the visitor to the sloop the previous night must have come to the wharf for something which had nothing to do with the Sea-Lark. There was so little on board that could be stolen. Nobody in his senses would do such a clumsy thing as attempt to get away with the old sails, he mused.
It was pitch-black in the cabin. Up on deck it was not much better, for the thin crescent of a moon was not due for hours yet, and there were clouds in the sky again to-night. Occasionally the sloop rocked gently as the water lapped her side and burbled between her and the wharf. It was a soft, soothing sound. Jack was perfectly comfortable, and very happy. It was a good idea to sleep on the boat, he reflected. The novelty of the thing appealed to him greatly. Later, when the weather grew hot, he and George would often do it. He wondered vaguely what Cap'n Crumbie was doing on the wharf. Perhaps snatching forty winks in his own little snuggery. Jack felt he could n't blame the Cap'n if he did snatch forty winks—fifty, if he liked—
