The performance of Professor Bartholomew had fired the "coon" with a desire to emulate his example, and he had made a wager with one of the boys that, using an umbrella for a parachute, he could jump from the rigging some thirty feet above the deck and land safely on the awning. It was late one afternoon when half a dozen of the party were sitting beneath its shade that a dark shadow passed over them followed by a dull thud on the canvas that made it sag for a foot or more, and a wild scream of terror followed. Climbing up the rope ladder to where they could overlook the awning, the boys found the mascot crawling on his hands and knees toward the rigging and dragging behind him an umbrella in a badly damaged condition. When Fogarty asked him what he was doing, he replied, after a long interval of silence, "Just been a practicin'," after which he informed them that had he landed all right he should have attempted to win his bet the next morning. One experience of this kind was enough for him, however, and though the boys begged him to give them another exhibition of his skill in making the parachute leap, nothing could induce him to do so. "Craps," a game introduced by the mascot, soon became more popular in the card-room than even poker, and the rattle of the bones and the cries of "Come, seben, come eleben, what's de mattah wid you dice," and other kindred remarks natural to the game coming from the lips of the chocolate-colored coon were to be heard at all hours. The nights during this portion of our trip were especially fine, and we enjoyed them immensely sitting on deck until the "wee sma' hours" watching the starlight that turned the surface of the water into a great field of glistening diamonds, and the silvery wake of the ship, that stretched away out into the ocean like a track of moonbeams, growing dimmer and dimmer until it was lost in the darkness that lay beyond.