d, ten of the
rescue party took their leave to go back to Port Haven; the other two
had hinted that they should like to stay a few days longer, to have a
thorough rest; and the captain had warmly begged that they would, while
Aunt Georgie laughed to herself and said in her grim way, "I smell a
rat."

For the two who stayed were Mr Henley the sugar-planter, and Dr
Freeston.

The captain was in the highest of spirits soon after, for Shanter,
looking exceedingly important on his rough colt with his spear across
his knees, rode slowly up, driving the whole of the sheep, pigs, and
cattle, which made for their old quarters as quietly as if they had
never been away, even another speared cow being among them, very little
the worse for her wound in spite of the flies.

"Hah!" cried the captain, rubbing his hands as the party all sat at the
evening meal; "and now, please Heaven, we can begin again and forget the
past."

A dead silence fell, and as the captain looked round he saw that the
eyes of wife, daughter, and niece were fixed upon him sadly, and that
Aunt Georgie's countenance was very grim.

"Shall I speak, Henley?" said the doctor.

"If you please," said that gentleman, with a glance at Ida.

"Then I will.--Captain Bedford," said the doctor, "you will forgive me,
sir, I know; but I must beg of you for the sake of the ladies to give up
this out-of-the-way place, and come close, up to the settlement. We
feel that we cannot leave you out here unprotected. Think of what would
have happened if we had not arrived in the nick of time."

There was a terrible silence, and Sam German, who was having his meal in
the kitchen with Shanter, came to the door, every word having been
audible.

At last the captain spoke in a low hoarse voice.

"Gentlemen," he said, "I have thought of it all, till drawn both ways as
I am, my brain seems almost on fire. I love my people as an Englishman
should, and all my work has been for their sake. I would do anything to
save them pain, but I ask you how can I give up this lovely home I have
won from the wilderness--a place where Heaven smiles on a man's labour,
and I can see, with plenty of hard work, a happy contented life and
prosperity for us all. I will not appeal to my dear wife and the girls,
because I know they will say, `Do what you think best,' but I do appeal
to you, aunt. It is not fair to expose you to such risks. Shall I give
up? Shall I, after putting my hand to the plo