Whereupon I executed a lively imitation of a boatswain’s whistle. Most children are blessed with imagination, but the Imp in this respect is gifted beyond his years. For him there is no such thing as “pretence”; he has but to close his eyes a moment to open them upon a new and a very real world of his own - the golden world of Romance, wherein so few of us are privileged to walk in these cold days of common-sense. And yet it is a very fair world peop1ed with giants and fairies; where castles lift their grim, embattled towers; where magic woods and forests cast their shade, full of strange beasts; where knights ride forth with lance in rest and their armour shining in the sun. And right well we know them. There is Roland, Sir William Wallace, and Hereward the Wake; Ivanhoe, the Black Knight, and bold Robin Hood. There is Amyas Leigh, old Salvation Yeo, and that lovely rascal Long John Silver. And there, too, is King Arthur, with his Knights of the Round Table - but the throng is very great, and who could name them all?
So the Imp and I sailed away into this wonderful world of romance aboard our gallant vessel, which, like any other pirate ship that ever existed - in books or out of them - “luffed, and filling upon another tack, stood away in pursuit of the Spanish treasure galleon in the offing.”
What pen could justly describe the fight which followed - how guns roared and pistols flashed, while the air was full of shouts and cries and the thundering din of battle; how Scarlet Sam foamed and stamped and flourished his cutlass; how Timothy Bone piped his whistle as a bo’sun should? We had already sunk five great galleons and were hard at work with a sixth, which was evidently in a bad way, when Scarlet Sam ceased foaming and pointed over my shoulder with his dripping blade.
“Sail ho!” he cried.
“Where away?” I called back.
“Three points on the weather bow.” As he spoke came the sound of oars, and turning my head, I saw a skiff approaching, sculled by a man in irreproachable flannels and straw hat.
“Why, it’s - it’s him!” cried the Imp suddenly. “Heave to, there!” he bellowed in the voice of Scarlet Sam. “Heave to, or I’ll sink you with a ‘murderous broadside!’” Almost with the words, and before I could prevent him, he gave a sharp tug to the rudder lines; there was an angry exclamation behind me, a shock, a splintering of wood, and I found myself face to face with Mr. Selwyn, flushed and hatless.
“Damn!” said Mr. Selwyn, and proceeded to fish for his hat with the shaft of his broken oar.
The Imp sat for a moment half frightened at his handiwork, then rose to his feet, cutlass in hand, but I punted him gently back into his seat with my foot.
“Really,” I began, “I’m awfully sorry, you know - er - “
“May I inquire,” said Mr. Selwyn cuttingly, as he surveyed his dripping hat - “may I inquire how it all happened?”
“A most deplorable accident, I assure you. If I can tow you back I shall be delighted, and as for the damage
“The damage is trifling, thanks,” he returned icily; “it is the delay that I find annoying.”
“You have my very humblest apologies,” I said meekly. “If I can be of any service - ” Mr. Selwyn stopped me with a wave of his hand.
“Thank you, I think I can manage,” he said; “but I should rather like to know how it happened. You are unused to rowing, I presume?”
“Sir,” I answered, “it was chiefly owing to the hot-headedness of Scarlet Sam, the Scourge of the South Seas,”
“I beg your pardon?” said Mr. Selwyn with raised brows.
“Sir,” I went on, “at this moment you probably believe yourself to be Mr. Se1wvn of Selwyn Park. Allow me to dispel that illusion; you are, on the contrary, Don Pedro Vasquez da Silva, commanding the Esmeralda galleasse, bound out of Santa Crux. In us you behold Scarlet Sam and Timothy Bone, of the good ship Black Death, with the ‘skull and cross-bones’ fluttering at our peak. If you don’t see it, that is not our fault.”
Mr. Selwyn stared at me in wide-eyed astonishment, then shrugging his shoulders, turned his back upon me and paddled away as best he might. “Well, Imp,” I said, “you’ve done it this time!”
“‘Fraid I have,” he returned; “but oh! wasn’t it grand - and all that about Don Pedro an’ the treasure galleon! I do wish I knew as much as you do, Uncle Dick. I’d be a real pirate then.”
“Heaven forfend!” I exclaimed. So I presently turned and rowed back upstream, not a little perturbed in my mind as to the outcome of the adventure.
“Not a word, mind!” I cautioned as I caught sight of a certain dainty figure watching our approach from the shade of her parasol. The Imp nodded, sighed, and sheathed his cutlass.
“Well!” said Lisbeth as we glided up to the water-stairs; “I wonder what mischief you have been after together?”
“We have been floating upon a river of dreams,” I answered, rising and lifting my hat; “we have likewise discoursed of many things. In the words of the immortal Carroll:
“‘Of shoes, and ships, and sealing wax, and cabbages, and - ’”
“Pirates!” burst out the Imp.
“This dream river of ours,” I went on, quelling him with a glance, “has carried us to you, which is very right and proper. Dream rivers always should, more especially when you sit “”Mid sunshine throned, and all alone.’”
“But I’m not all alone, Dick.”
“No; I’m here,” said a voice, and Dorothy appeared with her small and fluffy kitten under her arm as usual. “We are waiting for Mr. Selwyn, you know. We’ve waited, oh! a long, long time, but he hasn’t come, and Auntie says he’s a beast, and - “
“Dorothy!” exclaimed Lisbeth, frowning.
“Yes, you did, Auntie,” sad Dorothy , nodding her head. “I heard you when Louise ran up a tree and I had to coax her back; and I have a clean frock on, too, and Louise will be oh so disappointed!” Here she kissed the fluffy
