outset, had the fortunate result of keeping down the death-rate.
It was all for the sake of the Princess that I had arranged so

comparatively tame a victory. For myself, I rather liked a fair
amount of blood-letting, red-hot shot, and flying splinters. But

when you have girls about the place, they have got to be
considered to a certain extent.

There was another supper-party that night, in my cabin, as soon
as we had got well out to sea; and the French captain, who was

the guest of the evening, was in the greatest possible form. We
became sworn friends, and exchanged invitations to come and stay

at each other's homes, and really it was quite difficult to
induce him to take his leave. But at last he and his crew were

bundled into their boats; and after I had pressed some pirate
bullion upon them--delicately, of course, but in a pleasant

manner that admitted of no denial--the gallant fellows quite
broke down, and we parted, our bosoms heaving with a full sense

of each other's magnanimity and good-fellowship.
The next day, which was nearly all taken up with shifting our

quarters into the new frigate, so honourably and easily acquired,
was a very pleasant one, as everyone who has gone up in the world

and moved into a larger house will readily understand. At last I
had grim, black guns all along each side, instead of a rotten

brass carronade; at last I had a square-rigged ship, with real
yards, and a proper quarter-deck. In fact, now that I had soared

as high as could be hoped in a single voyage, it seemed about
time to go home and cut a dash and show off a bit. The worst of

this ocean-theatre was, it held no proper audience. It was
hard, of course, to relinquish all the adventures that still lay

untouched in these Southern seas. Whaling, for instance, had not
yet been entered upon; the joys of exploration, and strange

inland cities innocent of the white man, still awaited me; and
the book of wrecks and rescues was not yet even opened. But I

had achieved a frigate and a Princess, and that was not so bad
for a beginning, and more than enough to show off with before

those dull unadventurous folk who continued on their mill-horse
round at home.

The voyage home was a record one, so far as mere speed was
concerned, and all adventures were scornfully left behind, as we

rattled along, for other adventurers who had still their laurels
to win. Hardly later than the noon of next day we dropped anchor

in Plymouth Sound, and heard the intoxicating clamour of bells,
the roar of artillery, and the hoarse cheers of an excited

populace surging down to the quays, that told us we were being
appreciated at something like our true merits. The Lord Mayor

was waiting there to receive us, and with him several Admirals of
the Fleet, as we walked down the lane of pushing, enthusiastic

Devonians, the Princess and I, and our war-worn, weather-beaten,
spoil-laden crew. Everybody was very nice about the French

frigate, and the pirate booty, and the scars still fresh on our
young limbs; yet I think what I liked best of all was, that they

all pronounced the Princess to be a duck, and a peerless, brown-
haired darling, and a true mate for a hero, and of the right

Princess-breed.
The air was thick with invitations and with the smell of civic

banquets in a forward stage; but I sternly waved all festivities
aside. The coaches-and-four I had ordered immediately on

arriving were blocking the whole of the High Street; the
champing of bits and the pawing of gravel summoned us to take our

seats and be off, to where the real performance awaited us,
compared with which all this was but an interlude. I placed the

Princess in the most highly gilded coach of the lot, and mounted
to my place at her side; and the rest of the crew scrambled on

board of the others as best they might. The whips cracked and
the crowd scattered and cheered as we broke into a gallop for

home. The noisy bells burst into a farewell peal--
Yes, that was undoubtedly the usual bell for school-room tea.

And high time too, I thought, as I tumbled out of the bath, which
was beginning to feel very hard to the projecting portions of my

frame-work. As I trotted downstairs, hungrier even than usual,
farewells floated up from the front door, and I heard the

departing voices of our angular elderly visitors as they made
their way down the walk. Man was still catching it, apparently--

Man was getting it hot. And much Man cared! The seas were his,
and their islands; he had his frigates for the taking, his

pirates and their hoards for an unregarded cutlass-stroke or two;
and there were Princesses in plenty waiting for him somewhere--

Princesses of the right sort.
THE RELUCTANT DRAGON

Footprints in the snow have been unfailing provokers of sentiment
ever since snow was first a white wonder in this drab-coloured

world of ours. In a poetry-book presented to one of us by an
aunt, there was a poem by one Wordsworth in which they stood out

strongly--with a picture all to themselves, too--but we didn't
think very highly either of the poem or the sentiment.

Footprints in the sand, now, were quite another matter, and we
grasped Crusoe's attitude of mind much more easily than

Wordsworth's. Excitement and mystery, curiosity and suspense--
these were the only sentiments that tracks, whether in sand or in

snow, were able to arouse in us.
We had awakened early that winter morning, puzzled at first by

the added light that filled the room. Then, when the truth at
last fully dawned on us and we knew that snow-balling was no

longer a wistful dream, but a solid certaintywaiting for us
outside, it was a mere brute fight for the necessary clothes, and

the lacing of boots seemed a clumsyinvention, and the buttoning
of coats an unduly tedious form of fastening, with all that snow

going to waste at our very door.
When dinner-time came we had to be dragged in by the scruff of

our necks. The short armistice over, the combat was resumed; but
presently Charlotte and I, a little weary of contests and of

missiles that ran shudderingly down inside one's clothes, forsook
the trampled battle-field of the lawn and went exploring the

blank virgin spaces of the white world that lay beyond. It
stretched away unbroken on every side of us, this mysterious

soft garment under which our familiar world had so suddenly
hidden itself. Faint imprints showed where a casual bird had

alighted, but of other traffic there was next to no sign; which
made these strange tracks all the more puzzling.

We came across them first at the corner of the shrubbery, and
pored over them long, our hands on our knees. Experienced

trappers that we knew ourselves to be, it was annoying to be
brought up suddenly by a beast we could not at once identify.

"Don't you know?" said Charlotte, rather scornfully. "Thought
you knew all the beasts that ever was."

This put me on my mettle, and I hastily rattled off a string of
animal names embracing both the arctic and the tropic zones, but

without much real confidence.
"No," said Charlotte, on consideration; "they won't any of

'em quite do. Seems like something LIZARDY. Did you say a
iguanodon? Might be that, p'raps. But that's not British, and

we want a real British beast. _I_ think it's a dragon!"
"'T isn't half big enough," I objected.

"Well, all dragons must be small to begin with," said Charlotte:
"like everything else. P'raps this is a little dragon who's got

lost. A little dragon would be rather nice to have. He might
scratch and spit, but he couldn't DO anything really. Let's

track him down!"
So we set off into the wide snow-clad world, hand in hand, our