"This here," said he, "has been a eventfool vyge. I felt a derred persentment afore I started. Long ago I told you how the finger of destiny seemed to warn me away from the ocean main. I kem to the conclusion, you remember, that henceforth I was to dwell under my own vine an fig tree, engaged in the tender emplymint of nussin the infant. But from this I was forced agin my own inclynations. An what's the result? Why, this--that thar hat! See here, boys;" and the venerable seaman's tone grew deeper, and more solemn, and more impressive; "see here, boys," he repeated; "for mor'n forty year hev I follered the seas, an traversed the briny deep; but, though I've hed my share of storms an accydints, though I've ben shipwrecked onst or twiste, yet never has it ben my lot to experience any loss of human life. But now, but now, boys, call to mind the startlin events of this here vyge! Think of your companion an playmate a driftin off in that startlin manner from Petticoat Jack! An now look here--gaze upon that thar! Words air footil!" "Do you give him up, then?" cried Phil. "Poor, poor old Solomon!" Captain Corbet shook his head. "'Deed, thin, an I don't!" cried Pat. "What's a hat? 'Tain't a man, so it isn't. Many's the man that's lost his hat, an ain't lost his life. It's a windy place here, an ole Solomon's hat's a mile too big for him, so it is--'deed an it is." Captain Corbet shook his head more gloomily than ever. "Ow, sure an ye needn't be shakin yer head that way. Sure an haven't ye lost hats av yer own, over an over?" "Never," said the captain. "I never lost a hat." "Niver got one blowed off? 'Deed an ye must have." "I never got one blowed off. When the wind blowed hard I allus kep 'em tied on." "Well, Solomon hadn't any tie to his, an it cud tumble off his old pate asy enough, so it cud. Sure he's lost it jumpin over the rocks. Besides, where's his basket?" "At the bottom, no doubt." "Sure an it cud float." "No; I dar say it was full of lobsters." "Any how, I'll not believe he's gone till I see him," cried Pat, earnestly. "Seein's believin." "Ef he's gone," said Captain Corbet, more solemnly than ever, "ye'll never see him. These waters take too good care of a man for that." "Well, yer all givin up too soon," said Pat. "Come along now; there's lots of places yet to examin. Give one of yer loudest yells." Captain Corbet did so. In spite of his despondency as to poor old Solomon's fate, he was not at all unwilling to try any further chances. On this occasion he seemed to gain unusual energy out of his very despair; and the yell that burst from him was so high, so shrill, so piercing, and so far penetrating, that the former cries were nothing compared to it. "Well done!" cried Pat. "Sure an you bet yerself that time, out an out." "Stop!" cried Phil. "Listen. What's that?" Far away, as they listened, they heard a faint cry, that seemed like a response. "Is that the echo?" asked Phil, anxiously.