THE NORTH POLE,

AND

HOW CHARLIE WILSON DISCOVERED IT.

CHAPTER I.

PETER SVENDSON.

Na bright day in early spring, two lads were strolling in company along the quays at Dundee, talking of ships and

the sea with the buoyant spirits of youth, and pausing at intervals to regard with admiring eyes some vessel whose tapering masts and neatly-arranged rigging favourably impressed them. One of the lads, whose embrowned complexion contrasted sufficiently with his light hair and blue-grey eyes to show that it was the result of exposure to wind and weather, wore the blue jacket and trousers of a sailor. His companion, a

B

handsome youth, with curly brown hair, bright blue eyes, and a countenance glowing with health and exercise, had the appearance of a lad who has lately left school, and is rejoicing in his freedom from tasks and bounds.

Jostled by seamen of various nations, and often turning aside from casks and bales, the two lads made the tour of the quays, and had turned into a narrow lane, at right angles with the river, when they encountered a tall, middle-aged seaman of foreign aspect, who paused suddenly before them, regarding the seeming school-boy with a steadfast gaze. They were stepping into the road-way to avoid him, his appearance and manners not prepossessing them in his favour, when he suddenly extended a bony hand, and placed it on the shoulder of the lad who had attracted his attention.

"My lad!" said he.

The boys paused, and the one whom he addressed raised his eyes to the man's haggard and colourless countenance, the lower part of which was half concealed by his long and thick beard and moustache, while the upper part was chiefly remarkable for the wild expression of his dark eyes, which were deeply sunk in their orbits.

"You are the boy I want," he continued. "I must have a little talk with you."

"You don't know me," said the lad. "I am sure I don't know you-never saw you before."

"I do know you," returned the strange man. "Your name is Wilson-I am sure of it. And you are the boy I want; so come along with me, and I will tell you something you will be glad to know, and which nobody else can tell you.".

"Don't go with him, Charlie," the lad who wore the blue jacket and trousers of a sailor whispered to his companion. "I don't like the looks of the fellow."

you

can't say

"What have you to say to me that here?" inquired Charlie, regarding the strangelooking seaman with an air of suspicion.

"Much," replied the seaman, whose dark eyes flashed in their deep orbits, as if he was becoming excited by the lad's hesitation.

"Who are you, then?" said Charlie.

"You would be no wiser if I were to tell you," returned the seaman. "But let your companion stand aside, and I will whisper one word that will make you glad to go with me, and hear what I have to say to you."

The sailor-looking boy crossed the lane, and paused on the other side, regarding his companion and the strange seaman with furtive glances of doubt and suspicion. The latter followed him with his eyes, as if to satisfy himself that he had

retired out of hearing, and, having done so, inclined his head to the ear of Charlie Wilson, and whispered, "I am Peter Svendson!"

Having made this communication, he raised his head, and glanced quickly around, as if he feared that it might have reached ears for which it was not intended.

"Well," returned Charlie, "what of that? I don't know you by your name any more than I do by sight."

"But your father knows me," said Peter Svendson, his dark eyes flashing wildly as he spoke. "Has he never mentioned me to you?"

"My father perished at sea many years ago," returned Charlie, regarding him with a look of surprise.

The mariner surveyed him for a moment with a stare of bewilderment, but soon recovered himself, and chuckled incredulously.

"It was supposed so, my lad," he rejoined, after a moment's pause, "but Peter Svendson knows better. Who should know where Charles Wilson is better than Peter Svendson?"

"My father not dead!" exclaimed the astonished youth. "Where is he, then, Svendson?"

"That is a secret which must not be told here, my lad," the strange mariner replied, glancing warily around. "Come with me, and I will tell you all about the matter."

"Where do you wish to take me?" inquired Charlie.

"You must follow me, and ask no questions," replied Svendson. "Such a story as I have to tell you must have no listener but yourself."

"Lead on, then!" exclaimed Charlie, and, calling

to his companion that he must go with the stranger, and alone, he followed Peter Svendson to the waterside.

Looking behind him at intervals, to assure himself that they were not followed, the mysterious mariner walked with long strides to a landingplace, and, stepping into a boat, took up the oars,