charts, and curios from every quarter of the world adorning the curving walls of the room—such were the furnishings of this strange abode of the veteran of the sea.
The "Cap'n," a short, broad man of some sixty years, with a bushy white beard, twinkling bright eyes on either side of a mighty nose, came forward on his bowed legs to welcome his visitors.
"So these is them," said he as Hardy presented the boys before taking his leave. "Glad to see ye, lads," he added, picking up the pipe he had laid aside in order to shake their hands. "If you can't find chairs to accommodate ye, the boxes is soft and springy. Buffum's my name, and Buffum's my nature. You don't find no style hyuh, but what I has you're welcome to it. I know that suits ye, boys. You look like you've got horse sense, and horse sense is what old Bill Buffum swears by. And ye've got good clean smooth faces I see, lads. Keep 'em smooth and clean, and when your thoughts begin to write wrinkles on 'em, let 'em be jolly, happy wrinkles, for your thoughts write on your face so everybody kin read 'em. You can't fool old
