he said, after shaking hands warmly. "Ye look almost as healthy as ye did on the voyage from Brooklyn to Manila."
"And I feel almost as well," replied Ben. "The rest has done me a world of good. But what brought you up, Jack? Did Larry come with you?"
"No, Larry didn't come," stammered the old tar, and looked down at the floor. "Fact is, leftenant, Larry—he—he couldn't come."
"Couldn't come? Why, what's the matter?" cried Ben, quickly. "Is he sick?"
"I reckon not—leas'wise, I don't know. Fact is, leftenant, none on us know. Ye see, he went upon thet Santa Cruz expedition—"
"Yes, yes, I know that. And what of it? Was he—was he—" Ben could not utter the words which came to his mind.
"No, he wasn't shot, thet is, so far as we know. But he's—well, he's missin', an' we can't find hide nor hair o' him anywhere. I might ez well tell ye fust ez last, though it cuts my heart to do it, leftenant." And Jack Biddle shook his head dubiously.
It was a great shock to Ben, yet he stood it
