"Hold on!" cried Bonny. "Gentlemen, I assure you that but for Rick Dale I should have had the perishing contract all in my own hands." "I expect you are a well-mated team," laughed Raulet, "and I am willing to admit that for whatever comes tumbling down a mountain there couldn't be a better name than Bonny Brooks. But now let's have the yarn." So Alaric told them all he could remember of the mighty Visigoth who invaded Italy at the head of his barbarian host, became master of the world by conquering Rome when the eternal city was at the height of its magnificence, and whose tomb was built in the bed of a river temporarily turned aside for the purpose. The rough audience grouped about him listened to the tale of a long-ago hero with flattering interest, and when it was ended declared it to be a rattling good yarn, at the same time begging for more of the same kind. Alaric's head was crammed with such stories, for he had always delighted in them, and now he was only too glad of an opportunity to repay in some measure the kindly hospitality of the camp. So for an hour or more he related legends of Old World history, and still older mythology, all of which were as new to his hearers as though now told for the first time. Finally he paused, covered with confusion at finding Mr. and Mrs. Linton standing among his auditors, and waiting for a chance to invite him and Bonny to tea. From that time forth Alaric's position as story-teller was established, and there was rarely an evening during his stay in the camp, where books were almost unknown, that he was not called upon to entertain an interested group gathered about its after-supper open-air fire. Mr. Linton questioned the boys closely as to their capacity for work while they were at tea with him, and finally said: "I think I can find places for both of you, if you are willing to work for one dollar a day. You, Brooks, I shall let tend store and help me with my accounts until your arm gets stronger, while I think I shall place your friend in charge of one of the hump-durgins." "What is that, sir?" asked Alaric. "What's what?" "A hump-durgin." "Oh! Don't you know? Well, you'll find out to-morrow." [TO BE CONTINUED.] BLIND-MAN'S-BUFF AT SEA. PROBLEMS OF NAVIGATING IN THICK WEATHER. BY W. J. HENDERSON. "What do you think about the weather?" That was the question which Captain Jason Argo asked his first officer as they stood on the bridge together. The great black hull of the steamer _Golden Fleece_, driven by the powerful quadruple-expansion engines, was cleaving its way westward at a flying gait of nineteen knots an hour. There was a thundering hill of foam under her bows, and a massive cloud of oily brown smoke went rushing sternward from her two big funnels. She had encountered only one bit of fresh weather since leaving Queenstown, for it was hardly time yet for heavy gales. But now the sky had become overcast with a thin haze of clouds, which obscured the sun completely.