STORMY PETREL LOST 
HERE am I?” said Stormy, 
stretching himself, and at last 
rubbing one eye open to look 
about him. All about him 
was lumber. The smell of it 
was pleasing. He had a mind to turn over and 
take another little nap. 
“Must have slept late,” he thought to him¬ 
self as he blinked at the sun high in the 
heavens. He tried to think what had hap¬ 
pened the night before. He had reached a fine 
southern port, with the whaling schooner, and 
immediately out in the bay he had come upon 
some of his friends from the north land. There 
was Tommie Specks, the Eider Duck—Tom¬ 
mie had grown to be quite a gay fellow—and 
14 
