Didn't say nothin' you see; but I thought as how you was him," exclaimed the boatman.
"I have been over three years away from home," interrupted the stranger.
"Then you are Tite--the old man's son," resumed the boatman, "well, well!" Turning to him who pulled the bow-oar: "Stop pullin' a bit, Tom," said he, "stop pullin'." The man now rested his oar, and rising from his seat, extended his hand to the stranger, saying: "There's a hard old honest hand that welcomes you safe back.

John Flint is my name--called old Jack Flint generally." And he shook Tite's hand again and again.

"A heap o' people round here reckoned how you was dead--they did.

I can't tell you how glad I am to see you, my boy.

Its fifteen years since you and me sailed comrades on the sloop.