I couldn't get bottom there with a church steeple.' 'You think so, do you ?' The very tone of the question shook my confidence.

That was what Mr.
Bixby was expecting.

He left, without saying anything more.

I began to imagine all sorts of things.

Mr.Bixby, unknown to me, of course, sent somebody down to the forecastle with some mysterious instructions to the leadsmen, another messenger was sent to whisper among the officers, and then Mr.Bixby went into hiding behind a smoke-stack where he could observe results.