"Look! look!" they cried in fear. "It is a ship of war! It is coming to shore! Soon we shall all be killed!"

One old man stood still and said nothing.

The "something" came nearer.

"No, it is not a ship of war," cried one of the men. "It is a fire ship. When it comes to shore, it will set fire to our houses."

"But we can run away. So it is not so bad as a ship of war," said another.

The old man stood still and said nothing.

The "something" came nearer.

"It is a boat," cried a man. "It has floated loose from some ship. I hope it will come to shore. If it does, it is mine, for I saw it first."

"No, it is mine!" "It is mine!" "It is mine!" cried all the others.

The old man stood still and said nothing.

The "something" came nearer.

"It is not a boat," said one of the men. "It is a large bale."

"There may be fine silks in it," said another.

"I saw it first," shouted the man who had spoken before, "so it is mine."

"We'll see about that!" answered the other men. "I think we'll all have a share of the good things it holds."

The old man stood still and said nothing.

The "something" came close to the shore.

Then the old man spoke.

"Look, my friends," said he. "It is neither a ship of war, a fire ship, a boat, nor a bale. It is nothing but some sticks of wood floating on the water."

The men turned and walked slowly away. But the old man drew the sticks up on the beach and took them home for firewood.