Blixey rose, and climbed far enough up the cabin stairs to put his head out and make sure that Captain Bill was not on deck. Then he came back, and opening a little cupboard under the dish shelves, took out half a loaf of bread and some cold ham, and set it before the boy. “Mum’s the word,” he whispered. “Don’t say nothin’, but jes’ git around it’s quick’s ye can.” Joe followed the advice without further delay. “Blixey,” he said, between his mouthfuls, “you’re very good.” As he ate, the captain’s hoarse voice was heard from the tow-path: “Blixey!” “What is it, boss?” asked the negro, stumbling up the cabin stairs. “Send that young rascal out here!” The negro crawled back part of the way down the stairs. There was a certain compassion in his voice as he said,-- “You’ll hef to go, honey, an’ right smart, too. I know him.” So Joe went, and took up again in the blackness of night his dreary, cruel task on the tow-path. He thought it would never end; that the sun would soon rise at his back, and that he should be kept right on at his work through another day. But when Port Jackson was reached, at ten o’clock, the boat was tied up for the night. The horses were put under shelter in a stable near by, and fed. Then the two men and the boy went down into the cabin of the boat to go to bed. Under the stern-deck there were two bunks, and no more. These were occupied by the two men, so that Joe must sleep on the cabin floor. He was given an old quilt, and an overcoat for a pillow. Removing part of his wet clothing, he rolled himself in the quilt and tried to sleep; but sleep would not come to him. His physical and his nervous system had undergone so great a strain and fatigue that he could not at once relapse into slumber. The cabin was shut tight to keep out the storm, but the water found its way in nevertheless. Little rills ran across the floor, and soaked the old quilt in which Joe was wrapped. The air of the room, which seemed little more than a box, became foul and oppressive. Visions of his own room at home floated into Joe’s mind as he lay there. He saw the spotless floor, the pictures on the walls, the pretty curtains at the windows, the warm, soft, tidy bed. He thought of the dear mother at his side, soothing him, with loving touch and gentle words, to sweet sleep and pleasant dreams. That he wept, then, tears of homesickness, of sorrow, of deep and bitter shame, until he had sobbed himself to sleep, was but evidence of the gentle and manly spirit that lay beneath his boy’s foolish pride and impetuous will. The next morning Captain Bill awakened Joe by pushing him rudely with his foot. “Come, get up here,” he shouted, “an’ go an’ feed them hosses!” Joe rose. He was stiff and sore from exposure and exertion. His damp clothing, as he put it on, sent a chill through his whole body.