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Standish, Burt L., [pseud.]

"Frank Merriwell's Reward"

Sus-so when we get into a fuf-fog and I begug-gin
to holler, bub-bub-better pup-put cotton into your ears, Binky!"
Stubbs fell back into Danny's arms.
"Ar-r-r-r!" he gurgled. "I've got 'em now. Fits!"
"I'll give you fits, if you don't stop tumbling over against me!" Danny
howled, giving Bink a push that landed him in Browning's lap. Everybody
laughed, and Merriwell and his companions walked on round the steamer's
rail.
"It hurts me to think that I must separate soon from all those jolly
fellows!" Merry observed, in a saddened voice. "But commencement is
rushing this way at railroad speed, and most of them will go out of Yale
then forever."
"We'll not get blue about it until we have to," said Elsie, though the
thought had saddened her more than once.
"Just see how the fog is coming down!" Inza observed.
"Hello!" cried Hodge, "another vessel!"
A steamer hove into view through the thickening mist. The boats began to
sound their whistles.
"A sort of Flying Dutchman!" remarked Merriwell, and, indeed, the
passing steamer did seem more a phantasm of the fog than a real vessel
carrying living, breathing people. The _Merry Seas_ sounded her whistle
at frequent intervals as she pushed on into the fog, and for some time
after the steamer had vanished her hoarse whistle could also be heard.


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