And now a pitiful incident occurred. That poor ship's drudge, the kid, with the exception of Jack Derringer, who was in the other watch, had but one friend and chum, which was the almost equally disreputable ship's cat--a gaunt, thin tabby. These two shared their blankets and shared their grub. Scanty as the fare was, the kid always saved enough out of his daily whack to give the cat a good square meal. As Broncho remarked, "It's shore an example to humanity, the way that 'ere despised an' put-upon urchin hugs an' cherishes that cat; it's plumb touchin' as a spectacle." Since the mysterious voice episode, Jack's friendliness with the ragged boy had caused some comment in the foc's'le. Often these two were to be seen seated together talking in the second dog-watch. A notable change was beginning to show itself in the small urchin. He was no longer the dirty ragamuffin of yore; his shrill speech was not so full of oaths, and he ceased to shirk his work whenever he could conveniently do so. The rolling-stone seemed to possess a wonderful influence over the boy, and in the dog-watch he grew into the way of giving the kid a short lecture. These strange lectures proved a wonderful education to the suppressed urchin, who drank in every word of them. "Jim," the rover would say, as he smoked lazily on the fore-hatch, "your language is a sight too foul for a kid of your age. You just take a turn with that small tongue of yours, and go easy on swearing. I know it's hard, specially at sea, but I'll give you a tip. Now you've seen the Spanish inscriptions on cigar-boxes, haven't you? Yes? Well, suppose something happens--you stub your toe over a ring-bolt, or slip up on some slush by the galley--you want a harmless, inoffensive word to express your feelings. Well, there's your word in top-weight Spanish on the cigar-box. 'Claro!' you say, short and quick in an annoyed way, 'Claro!' Well, you do it again; this time you're feeling a bit hotter, and you want something the least bit stronger. 'Maduro!' you say, and put your feeling into the 'u.' But you go and stub your toe a third time; it's getting to be a bad habit of yours, and you really want something strong this time to get the proper flavour in your mouth. There's the word ready for you on the cigar-box. 'Colorado!' and the worse you feel the more you roll the 'r,' until you can make the word howl with pain. Listen----" Jack frowned ferociously, and then from the back of his throat threw out the terrible oath: "Color-r-r-r-a-a-a-do!!!" The rolling-stone's lectures were certainly original, to say the least of them, and they generally had their amusing side. One Saturday night Jack lay on his back watching his beloved stars, whilst the boy was busy at the pump washing off his weekly allowance of dirt in preparation for Sunday. This was a new habit of his, set going by his star-gazing friend, who, finding that the boy did not possess any soap, had presented him with a dozen pieces, saying,