"That's it. There must be perfect trust between them. I believe in you, Gracie, and I'd trust you with my life." Gracie's black eyes gleamed. "You're what I call thorough, and you've got the pluck of twenty men. We're sailing, you and I, in the ship Endeavour for the port Safety. There's only one captain in that ship, as there must be in all properly commanded ships when they're sailing through dangerous rocks. Now, who's the captain?" "You." "Good. I'm captain, and you're first mate, and no captain could desire a better. Says the captain to the first mate, 'Mate,' says he, 'I hear as how your father's disappeared, and as how they're saying hard things of him. That's what oughtn't to be, and we'll mend it. He's got to be found, your father is, and brought for'ard,' says the captain, 'so that he may knock them hard words down their con-founded throats.' 'That's so,' says the mate--it's you that's speaking now, you know"-- Gracie nodded--"'that's so,' says the mate, 'and that's what I've made up my mind to do, and what I'm going to do. I've had a dream where he's to be found,' says the first mate----" "More than one, Dick--captain, I mean," said Gracie. "Right you are, my hearty, and there's many a dream that's come true, and likewise many that haven't. 'But it isn't because you've had a dream,' says the captain, 'that _I_ shouldn't have a shy at the discovery of him, and that's what I've set _my_ mind on, if so be as you've no objections,' he says. 'Objections!' says the first mate, '_I've_ no objections'"--Here Dick broke off. "I suppose he hasn't, Gracie?" "No, Dick, he hasn't. He thinks it more than kind of the captain." "Love your heart, I knew you wouldn't have. 'And how are you going to set about it?' says the first mate. 'Why,' says the captain, planting his wooden leg firmly on the deck--did I tell you he had a wooden leg?" "No, you didn't," said Gracie, quite gravely. "Well, I just remember that he had. 'Why,' says he, planting his wooden leg firmly on the deck, 'seeing as how that good woman, Mrs. Abel Death, and Gracie, and all the other little ones, are more unhappy than words can express because father doesn't come home, and as how it may be to some persons' interests to keep him _from_ coming home, I'm thinking of offering a reward to anybody that can give information as to his whereabouts--in point of fact to find him and restore him to the bosom of his family.' That's what the captain says to the mate--because he wants to act fair and square by him, and not do anything behind his back as might make him doubt that he _wasn't_ acting fair and square--and he asks the mate what he thinks of the idea." "To _find_ him, captain, not to _catch_ him," said Gracie, slowly, with a strong accent on the two words. "That is how the captain puts it. To find him, and restore him to the bosom of his family." Gracie nodded, and pondered before speaking. "If the mate--that's me, Dick--found father, would _he_ have the reward?"