y," said the Captain sharply; and he strode off into the fir-wood, with Dot in his arms, leaving his son to follow.
The Skipper turned his back again, so that the sailor should not see the trouble in his face, but he looked round in wonder, for there was a strange scuffling noise, the low whistling of the old tune "Jack Robinson," and there was the big sailor, with his arms swung across his breast, and the parcels dangling on the wrong side, going through the steps of the sailor's hornpipe, as if he were made of indiarubber; and kicking up the dust more than ever.
[Illustration: "There was the big sailor going through the steps of the sailor's hornpipe."]
The Skipper felt very uncomfortable when he reached home c
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