Arthur had evidently finished the history of his exploits, for he had nothing more to say just then.  Archie, after waiting a few minutes for him to resume his narrative, pulled his sombrero down over his eyes, and thrust his hands into his pockets—­two movements he always executed when he wished to concentrate his mind upon any thing—­and began to ponder upon what he had just heard.

“Vane,” said he, suddenly, an idea striking him, “who commanded your vessel when you were captured?”

Arthur knitted his brows, and looked down at the horn of his saddle, as if thinking intently, and finally said:  “Why, it was Mr.—­, Mr.—­; I declare, I have forgotten his name.”

Archie again relapsed into silence.

“We had two wars with those pirates,” thought he.  “The first was with Tripoli; but as that happened in 1805, Arthur, of course, could not have taken part in it, for he made his first voyage at sea in 1815.  We lost but one vessel, and that was captured in 1803—­two years before war with Tripoli was declared.  It was the frigate Philadelphia, and she wasn’t whipped, either, but was run aground while pursuing a piratical vessel.  She was commanded by Captain Bainbridge, who surrendered himself and crew.  They were not compelled to ‘walk the plank,’ however, but were reduced to a horrible captivity, and treated worse than dogs.  The Tripolitans never got a chance to use the Philadelphia against us, for Decatur—­who was at that time a lieutenant serving under Commodore Preble, who commanded our navy in those waters—­boarded her one night with twenty men while she was lying in the harbor, swept the deck of more than double that number of pirates, burned the vessel under their very noses, and returned to his ship with only one man wounded.  I never did care much for history, but a fellow finds a great deal of satisfaction sometimes in knowing a little about it.”

Archie had at first been highly amused by what Arthur had to say; but now, that the novelty had somewhat worn off, he began to wonder how it was possible for a boy to look another in the face and tell such improbable stories.  If Arthur was not ashamed of himself Archie was heartily ashamed for him, and he was more than half inclined to put spurs to Sleepy Sam and start for home.  He was not fond of such company.

Arthur Vane is not an imaginary character.  There are a great many like him in the world, boys, and men, too, who endeavor to make amends for the absence of real merit by recounting just such impossible exploits.  The result, however, is always the exact reverse of what they wish it to be.  Instead of impressing their auditors with a sense of their great importance, they only succeed in awakening in their minds feelings of pity and contempt.

After Arthur had finished the history of his life, he rode along whistling snatches of the “Hunter’s Chorus,” happy in the belief that his reputation was established.  Well, it was established, but how?  Archie thought:  “Brag is a splendid dog, but Holdfast is better.  Perhaps we may have a chance to test the courage of this mighty man of valor.”