and breaking into a loud laugh, cried:--

"Come, Jo, you must admit that there is at least one living man who has
made you 'shut up' before you had finished what you'd got to say."

John Bumpus, who had thrown up his left arm to ward off the anticipated
blow, and dropped his oar in order to clench his right fist, quietly
resumed his oar, and shook his head gravely for nearly a minute, after
which he made the following observation:--

"Capting, I've seed, in my experience o' life, that there are some
constitootions as don't agree with jokin'; an' yours is one on 'em. Now,
if you'd take the advice of a plain man, you'd never try it on. You're a
grave man by natur', and you're so bad at a joke that a feller can't
quite tell w'en you're a-doin' of it. See, now! I do declare I wos as
near drivin' you right over the stern o' your own boat as could be, only
by good luck I seed the twinkle in your eye in time."

"Pull away, my lad," said the captain, in the softest tones of his deep
voice, at the same time looking his reprover straight in the face.

There was something in the tone in which that simple command was given,
and in the look by which it was accompanied, that effectually quelled
John Bumpus in spite of himself. Violence had no effect on John, because
in most cases he was able to meet it with superior violence, and in all
cases he was willing to try. But to be put down in this mild way was
perplexing. The words were familiar, the look straightforward and common
enough. He could not understand it at all, and being naturally of a
philosophical turn of mind, he spent the next three minutes in a futile
endeavor to analyze his own feelings. Before he had come to any