"Where is he? Here, Skeny, Skeny!" The dog answered with another sharp bark, and, directed by the sound, the boy advanced to find the collie curled up on a tarpaulin right forward under the bowsprit. "Hullo, old chap! why don't you come out?" cried Steve; but the dog only gave his tail a few short raps on the tarpaulin without moving his head, his eyes twinkling up from the furry hair in which his nose was buried. "Not ill, are you?" continued Steve, bending down to pat his companion, but eliciting a whine, as if the caress had given pain. "He's only trying to sleep it off, sir," said Johannes, scattering some more food to the gulls, which dashed at it screaming. "I felt him over this morning. He's a good bit bruised, but no bones broken." "Did he let you--didn't he try to bite?" "Oh no," said the man with quiet confidence; "a dog won't bite you when he's hurt, if he knows you want to do him good. We're friends, aren't we, Skene?" The dog rapped the tarpaulin with his tail, and then lay curled up a little closer, perfectly still. "It's wonderful, sir, how soon animals mend up again without doctoring. A few licks, a little going on short food, and plenty of sleep, and they soon come round. One may do worse than imitate them sometimes." Steve made no reply, for the simple reason that he had nothing to say; but he could not help wondering what Mr Handscombe would think, as he got up on the bowsprit just where it passed out over the vessel's prow, held on by the rigging, and had a good look round. But on his left there was nothing but the long, low ice cliff; on his right the glittering sea, flecked with grey sea-birds floating above or calmly sitting on the blue water. He leaped down, gave Skene a pat, promised him some breakfast, and was going aft toward the galley, but just then Johannes had turned the skin back over the bare skull, pretty well restoring the shape of the head, and he held it up. "Make a grand ornament, sir, when it's done. Fine ivory teeth, hasn't it?" "Yes. Lend it to me a moment." He took hold of the head, and at that moment became conscious of the fact that Watty's greasy shock head was thrust outside of the galley, and that the lad was watching him with a sneering grin upon his countenance. There was not the slightest occasion to take any notice, but these derisive grins made Steve feel hot, and as if he must punch that head as hard as ever he could, for if he did not he told himself that the annoyance would grow worse. He paid no further heed to the boy then, but carried the heavy head to where Skene lay curled up to try the effect upon the dog. That was visible directly in the ruffling up of the thick frill and a low, deep growl; but the next minute Skene gave a short bark, and curled his tail over his nose again, as if quite satisfied that he was only being played with, and Steve bore back the trophy.