As carefully as possible, Breeze first cut away the small portion of line that still remained attached to the shank of the hook. Then, after cutting little slits in them and clearing them from it, he drew off Wolfe’s wet lower garments. The hook was fastened into the calf of the right leg, and had torn the flesh cruelly. Now, while Breeze could, if necessary, bear any amount of pain himself, it made him faint to inflict it in cold blood upon others. So, when Wolfe said, “It looks as if you’d have to cut the beggar out, old man,” he replied, “I can’t do it, Wolfe! I haven’t the nerve.” “Then I must,” answered his companion; and without a moment’s hesitation he reached down, and with one powerful wrench tore the hook from his leg and flung it overboard. “That’s a good job quickly done,” he said, laughing at the other’s pale face. “Now if I only had something to bind it up with!” For a moment they could think of nothing suitable, for all their garments were woollen. Then Breeze remembered his silken neck-handkerchief, and hastily pulled it off. As he did so it caught on the slender chain that he always wore clasped about his neck according to the promise he had given his mother, and the golden ball attached to it was brought into view. Wolfe had never before seen it, and as he tightly bandaged his wounded leg he asked Breeze what it was, and why he wore it. In answer Breeze told him all that he knew concerning the ball, not forgetting the encounter with the New York jeweller who had opened it and then closed it again without allowing him to look at its contents. Wolfe was greatly interested in all this, and examined the locket closely, in the hope of discovering its secret fastening, but without success. For some time they occupied their minds, and kept themselves from thinking of their unhappy situation, by speculating as to what it contained. They wondered who had first clasped the chain around the boy’s baby neck, and Wolfe declared that Breeze was undoubtedly a lost prince, who would some day come into his kingdom. He begged him not to forget his old dorymate when that happy event occurred. The word “dorymate” recalled them to their present surroundings, and looking up, Wolfe said, “Well, there doesn’t seem to be any prospect of the fog’s lifting yet a while. I wish it would, though, in time to let us get back to the schooner for dinner, for I’m awfully hungry. Speaking of dinner, have we got a bite of anything to eat besides the raw fish we threw overboard?” At another time Breeze would have laughed heartily at this Irish bull, but now he only answered by going to the dory’s little stern locker and drawing from it his oil-cloth provision-bag. A glance at its contents assured him that they were all right, and he exclaimed, joyfully, “Here are two dozen large biscuit, and they’ve kept dry!” “How about water?” “I looked after that this morning, and the keg’s full of fresh water.”