‘We’d best take him aboard,’ said one of the men; ‘see, the barge is sinking fast.’ As he spoke the barge settled down and disappeared, leaving only the point of her topmast visible above the waves. But poor Luke thought nothing of the vessel; his thoughts were full of the injured man. ‘Where do ye live, mate?’ asked one of the sailors from the tug. ‘At Grayfleet, master,’ answered Luke, sobbing, and still chafing the cold limp hand. ‘And oh, mates, do take him aboard, and get him home quick, and then mayhap he won’t die.’ The men agreed to take the two men on board, especially as their course lay past Grayfleet. Nevertheless, as they looked on the face of Uncle Mark, they firmly believed it to be the face of a corpse. But after they had got him aboard the tug, stripped him of his wet clothes, and administered some restoratives, he heaved a little sigh, and opened his eyes. ‘Luke, mate,’ he said, recognising his brother, ‘try and say a prayer for me. I doubt I’m a dead man!’ CHAPTER V.--UNCLE MARK SAILS UP THE SHINING RIVER. All that night Madeline, sleeping peacefully, had been dreaming happy dreams. Her little feet had been pattering through the busy streets of the Golden City; her wondering eyes had been feasted with all the gay sights, her ears with all the gay sounds, which the wondrous ways afford. When she awoke in the morning, she was a little disappointed, and a good deal astonished, to find herself in her little room at home. It was broad daylight, and Madeline thought it must be late; Mrs. Peartree stood at the window, gazing dreamily forth. Madeline lay for a time and watched her; then she said suddenly:-- ‘What are you looking at, Aunt Jane?’ At the sound of the voice the woman turned, and bent to impress her usual kiss on the flushed little cheek on the pillow. ‘Get up, Madlin,’ she said, ‘’tis close on eight o’clock, and you’ll be late for school again.’ ‘What were you looking at?’ reiterated Madeline, after returning the caress. ‘Nought, lass, nought--’twas only one of them little steam tugs that stopped off the ferry and sent a boat ashore--but now the boat has gone back again, and the tug has steamed away.’ ‘What did it stop for?’ asked Madeline, rising on her pillow. ‘Bless the lass, how can I tell? for nought that consarns _us_, be sure. There, get up quick, and I’ll cut the bread and butter.’ So saying, she departed, and Madeline, slipping from the bed, began to dress herself. She had pretty nearly completed her task, and had her arms raised, and her frock suspended above her head, when the sound of voices reached her from below. She listened, and recognised the tones of Uncle Luke. Her heart bounded, her cheek flushed, a minute afterwards she flew down the stairs, thrusting her arms into the wrong sleeves, and alighted, radiant, panting, and half-dressed, on the kitchen floor.