of yours in
St. John's, and he told me a great deal about you, and the game you are
playing in this harbor--and also about her. Your friend's name is Dick
Lynch."

"Dick Lynch," repeated the skipper, quietly. "I'll be cuttin' the heart
out o' that dog yet!"

"And a good job, no doubt," said Darling. "But I warn you, my man, that
if you injure Miss Lockhart in any way you'll curse the day you first
saw daylight. You'll be burned out of here like the dirty, murdering
pirate that you are--you and your whole crew. The law will have you, my
man--it will have you by the neck. Do you think I risked coming to this
place without leaving word behind me of where I was bound for and what I
was after?"

"Now ye be lyin'," said the skipper, coolly. "Ye telled the truth about
Dick Lynch; but now ye lie. Don't ye try to fool wid me, damn ye! Ye
come to Chance Along widout leavin' a word behind ye. I sees the lie in
yer face."

"I left Dick Lynch behind me," said the sailor.

That shook the skipper's assurance; but he was in no mood to feel fear
for more than a moment. He laughed sneeringly and began to unload his
captive's pockets. He took out the pistols, admired them and laid them
aside. Next, he unearthed a few cakes of hard bread, a small flask of
brandy, and a pipe and half a plug of tobacco.

"How'd ye come to Chance Along, anyhow? Where bes yer boat?" he asked,
suddenly, pausing in his work.

"I walked across from Witless Bay," said Darling.

"Where bes yer boat?" asked the other.

"In Witless Bay, you fool! Do you think I carried it across my back?"

The skipper swung the lantern back and glanced at the soles of the
other's boots.

"Ye bes a liar--and a desperate poor one at that," he said. "Where bes
yer boat?"

John Darling lost his temper. He disliked being forced into telling a
lie--and, being human, he disliked still more to have the lie discovered
and the effort wasted.

"Go to hell and find it, you black-faced pirate!" he roared.

The skipper stopped, glared down at him, and swung his right hand back
for a blow.

"Hit away, I'm tied," said the other, without flinching.

The skipper let his hand sink to his side.

"I don't hit a tied man. That bain't my way," he said, flushing darkly.

"Untie me, then, and you can hit all you want to. Cut these ropes and
let me at you. Come now, for I see that you have some sense of manliness
in you, after all."

"Not jist now. To-morrow, maybe--or maybe next day