"They call you bub." "Well, that old fellow isn't oppressed," I said; "and if any of his ancestors were, I don't suppose he cares about remembering it.

We ought to hire his boat some time." That evening we took a walk along the sea-wall.

It was a beautiful starlight night, and a great many people were walking about.

When we got down near the fort,--which looked bigger and grayer than ever by the starlight,--Rectus said he would like to get inside of it by night, and I agreed that it would be a good thing to do.

So we went over the drawbridge (this place has a drawbridge, and portcullises, and barbicans, and demi-lunes, and a moat, just as if it were a castle or a fort of some old country in Europe),--but the big gate was shut.