care. The door was locked, and Goss and Mumps went on deck to learn what Baxter was doing.
"What does this mean?" asked the man in the flatboat. He was a farmer, who had just been taking a load of hay across the stream.
"Oh, it's all right," answered Baxter carelessly. "That's my sister."
"Your sister?"
"Yes."
"What's the row?"
"No row at all—excepting that I am trying to get her back to the asylum."
"Is she crazy?"
"A little bit; but not near as bad as she used to be. She got out of the asylum in Brooklyn yesterday, and I've had my hands full trying to get her back. She imagines she is a sea captain and always runs off with my uncle's yacht."
"I see. That's putty bad for your family."
"Oh, yes; but we are getting used to it. Take care, we are going to swing around."
Never suspecting that he had been regaled with a string of falsehoods, the farmer let go with his boathook, and yacht and flatboat speedily drifted apart.
It was with a big sigh of relief that Dan Baxter saw the flatboat recede in the distance.
