Behold it, the will, made by my grandfather, the father of my poor mother, whose soul, with his, rest in eternal glory! By this, my mother, and I after her, inherit this house, this garden, these possessions such as they are.

If I desire, son of mine, I may come here to-day to live, sell the 'Nautilus,' or cut her cable and let her drift down the river, with Rento and Franci, and all the shells; and I may live here in my house, to--what do you say?
cultivate my lands, eat grass and give it to the cattle?
What think you, Colorado?
Is that a life?
Shall I lead it, as is my right?
Have I not had enough, think you, of roving over the sea, with no place where I may rest, save the heaving ocean, that rests never beneath the foot?
Shall we turn out this old wicked man, who did to death his old father, who made my mother go sad of heart to her grave, who has done of all his life no kind act to any person--shall we turn him out, and live in peace here, you and I ?" The child came near to him, and laid his hand on his friend's knee, and looked up in his face with troubled eyes.
"I am not very bright," he said, "and you think so many things so quickly that I do not know what you mean a good deal of the time.
But--but Cousin Scraper took me when my people died, and he has taken care of me ever since, and--and he has no one else to take care of him now." "Yes, the fine care he has taken of you!" said the Skipper.

"You are of skin and bone, my child, and there are marks on your skin of blows, I saw them yesterday: cruel blows, given from a bad heart.

You have worked for him, this ancient fish-skin, how long?
Of wages, how much has he paid you?
Tell me these things, and I will tell you how much it is your duty to stay by him." But John shook his head, and the shadows deepened in his blue eyes.
"You cannot tell a person those things," he said; "a person has to tell himself those things.

But thank you all the same," he added, fervently; "and I love you always more and more, every day and every minute, and I always shall." "Now the question is," said the Skipper, shrugging his shoulders in mock despair, "must I turn pirate in truth, to gain possession of a child whom I could hold in my pocket, and who would give all his coloured hair from his head to go with me?
Go away, son of mine, that I reflect on these things, for you try my soul!" John withdrew, very sad, and wondering how it was that right and wrong could ever get mixed.