Point is, you seemed consid'able interested in the child, as one may say.

Nothing strange in that,--nice little boy! would interest an Injin chief, if he had any human feelin' in him.

But _bein'_ a justice of the peace, you see,--well, Mr.Scraper has sent me to make inquiries, and no offence in the world, I trust--no _insult_, you understand, if I jest--well, all about it--do you know where in thunder the child is ?" Mr.Bill Hen, standing on the bank, delivered himself of these remarks with infinite confusion, perspiring freely, and wiping his face with a duster, which he had brought by mistake instead of a handkerchief.

He looked piteously at the Skipper, who stood leaning over the side, cheerfully inscrutable, clad in spotless white, and smoking a long cigar.
"The child ?" the Skipper repeated, thoughtfully.

"You allude to the boy called John, Senor Pike; yes, I had that suppose.