with flour to make it gray, so nearly resembled that of the cleric, that Morgan Walters was evidently intended by Providence to be a parson, for such a capital one did he make. Thus encouraged, Morgan Walters strutted about the kitchen, and the likeness to Doctor Syn (for he was of the same build and Doctor Syn had always the sailor's rolling gait) was so perfect that Jerk began to laugh, but was speedily hushed by the captain.
"Now remember, Walters," the captain said, "there's no danger in this if you do exactly as I told you, but you will have to be spry, of course."
"If he sticks me, then I deserves to be stuck," replied Morgan Walters. "I've been Aunt Sally at the county fairs afore now, and never got whacked, not once. I always could bob down in time in those days, and I didn't have no bo'sun's whistle to help me."
And then began the captain's experiment, a most curious game, and, in spite of its tragic purpose, a humorous game it was.
The bo'sun, whistle in mouth, was hidden in the little front garden; the captain and Jerk crouched in the corner of the room of which the window had no view; while Morgan Walters, in all points resembling Doctor Syn, sat reading in the ingle seat by the fire—sat reading a book with his back to the window, from which the shutters had been thrown open and the broken casement set ajar. It was a weird occasion: the captain
