class="smcap">Harper's Young People, August 2.]

TIM AND TIP;

OR, THE ADVENTURES OF A BOY AND A DOG.

BY JAMES OTIS,

AUTHOR OF "TOBY TYLER," ETC.

Chapter V.

LIFE ON BOARD THE "PRIDE OF THE WAVE."

When Tim first went on board the steamer which was to be his home, he thought, from the beautiful things he saw around, that he should live in a luxurious manner; but when he was shown the place in which he was to sleep, he learned that the fine things were for the passengers only, and that even comfort had been sacrificed in the quarters belonging to the crew.

He was given a berth in the forecastle, which was anything rather than a pleasant or even a sweet-smelling place, and had it not been that he had the satisfaction of having Tip with him when he went to bed, he would have cried even harder and longer than he did.

Captain Pratt had not made his appearance on the steamer that day; but the steward had told him that his duties as Captain's boy would begin next morning at breakfast, when he would be expected to wait upon the Captain at the table. The last thing Tim thought of that night was how he should acquit himself in what he felt would be a trying position, and the first thing which came into his mind when he awoke on the following morning was whether he should succeed in pleasing his employer or not.

After kissing Tip over and over again, and with many requests to him to be a good dog and not make a noise, Tim tied his pet in his narrow quarters, and then made his own toilet. He really made a good appearance when he presented himself to Mr. Rankin, the steward, that morning. His cheeks were rosy from a vigorous application of cold water and a brisk rubbing, and if he could rely upon his personal appearance for pleasing Captain Pratt, there seemed every chance that he would succeed.

During the time he had been at work the day before, Mr. Rankin took every opportunity to instruct him in his new duties, and that morning the steward gave him another lesson.

It was barely finished when Captain Pratt came into the cabin, and one look at him made Tim so nervous that he forgot nearly everything he had been told to remember.

The Captain's eyes were red, his hands trembled, while he had every symptom of a man who had been drinking hard the day before, and was not perfectly sober then.

Tim had never had any experience with drinking men; but he did not need any explanation as to the causes of the Captain's appearance, and he involuntarily ducked his head when his employer passed him.

"Now, then, what are you skulking there for, you young rascal?" shouted Captain Pratt, as he fell rather than seated himself in his chair.

"I ain't skulkin', sir," replied Tim, meekly.

"Don't you answer me back," cried the Captain, in a rage, seizing the milk pitcher as if he intended to throw it at the boy. "If you talk back to me, I'll show you what a rope's end means."

Tim actually trembled with fear, and kept a bright lookout, so that he might be ready to dodge in case the pitcher should be thrown, but did not venture to say a word.

"Now bring me my breakfast, and let's see if you amount to anything, or if I only picked up a bit of waste timber when I got you."

"What will you have, sir?" asked Tim, timidly, as he moved toward the Captain's chair.

A blow on the side of his head that sent him reeling half way across the cabin served as a reply, and it was followed by a volley of oaths that frightened him.'

"What do you mean by asking me what I'll have before you tell me what is ready? Next time you try to wait upon a gentleman, tell him what there is. Bring me some soda-water first."

This was an order that had not been provided for in the lessons given by Mr. Rankin, and Tim stood perfectly still, in frightened ignorance.

"Come, step lively, or I'll get up and show you how," roared the Captain, his face flushing to a deeper red, as his rage rose to the point of cruelty.

"Please, sir, I don't know where it is;" and Tim's voice sounded very timid and piteous.

"Don't know where it is, and been on board since yesterday! What do you suppose I hired you for? Take that, and that."

CAPTAIN PRATT ORDERS HIS BREAKFAST.

Suiting the action to the words, the cheerful-tempered man threw first a knife and then a fork at the shrinking boy, and was about to follow them with a plate, when Mr. Rankin put into Tim's hand the desired liquid.

Tim would rather have gone almost anywhere else than close to his employer just then; but the glass was in his hand, the Captain was waiting for it with a glare in his eye that boded no good if he delayed, and he placed it on the table.

"Now what kind of a breakfast have you got?" shouted Captain Pratt, as he swallowed the liquid quickly.

It was a surprise to himself that he could remember anything just then, but he did manage to repeat the names of the different dishes, and to take the Captain's order.

Although he ran as swiftly as possible from the table to the kitchen, and was served there with all haste, he did not succeed in pleasing the angry man.

"I want you to remember," said that worthy, with a scowl, "that I ain't in the habit of waiting for my meals. Another time, when you are so long, I shall give you a lesson you won't forget."

Tim was placing the dishes of food on the table when the Captain spoke, and he was so startled by the angry words, when he thought he deserved pleasant ones, that he dropped a plate of potatoes.

He sprang instantly to pick them up, but Captain Pratt was out of his chair before he could reach them, and with all his strength he kicked Tim again and again. Then, without taking any heed of the prostrate boy, who might have been seriously injured, he seated himself at the table in perfect unconcern.

Mr. Rankin helped Tim on his feet, and finding that no bones were broken—which was remarkable, considering the force with which the blows had been given—advised him to go on deck, promising that he would serve the Captain.

"But I propose that the boy shall stay here," roared the Captain. "Do you think I'm going to let him sneak off every time I try to teach him anything?"

Tim struggled manfully to keep back the tears that would come in his eyes as he stood behind the Captain's chair, but they got the best of him, as did also the little quick sobs.

The Captain appeared to grow more cheerful as he ate, and although he called upon Tim for several articles, he managed to get along without striking any more blows, contenting himself by abusing the poor boy with his tongue.

It was a great relief to Tim when that meal was ended, and Mr. Rankin told him he could eat his own breakfast before clearing away the dishes.

Tim had not the slightest desire for food then, but he did want some for Tip. Hastily gathering up the bones from Captain Pratt's plate, he ran with them to the bow, where Tip was straining and tugging at his rope as if he knew his master was having a hard time, and he wanted to be where he could help him.

Tim placed the bones in front of Tip, and then kneeling down, he put his arms around the dog's neck as he poured out his woes in his ear, while Tip tried in every way to get at the tempting feast before him.

"I'm the miserablest boy in the world, Tip, an' I don't know what's goin' to become of us. You don't know what a bad, ugly man Captain Pratt is, an' I don't believe I can stay here another day. But you think a good deal of me, don't you, Tip? an' you'd help me if you could, wouldn't you?"

The dog had more sympathy with the