nyhow, I'll get to see ye agin to-morrow night. Lay low, now,
an' don't be lightin' a fire."

As she stepped aboard the bully George's mind cleared a little.

"Ye bain't playin' any tricks on me, I do hope," he whispered. "Ye
wouldn't be leavin' me here all alone by meself forever, widout me bully
even, would ye now?"

"Ye kin trust me," said Mary. Then she shoved off into the darkness.

Half an hour later the keel of the bully touched the land-wash in the
sheltered harbor of Chance Along. Mary Kavanagh stepped ashore, laid the
oar noiselessly inboard and set the bully adrift, and then made her
cautious way up and into her father's cabin. Snow began to fall thickly
and silently as she closed the door.

CHAPTER XVIII

MOTHER NOLAN DOES SOME SPYING

John Darling was sore, hungry and cold; but his heart was joyful and
strong. He had been knocked over the head, and he had been robbed of the
newly-recovered necklace and the reward of a thousand pounds; but he had
found Flora, alive, evidently not ill-treated and not in any real danger
save of oblivion, and with the memory of him clear in her heart. He had
failed to get her away from the harbor; but he felt convinced that a way
of escape for both of them would soon occur. He did not fear Black
Dennis Nolan. The fellow was a man, after all. He knew that if he should
come to any serious physical injury at the skipper's hands it would be
in a fair fight. Also, he knew that Mother Nolan and Mary Kavanagh were
on his side--were as anxious to get Flora out of the harbor as he was to
take her out. But the planks upon which he lay were as cold and hard as
ice; and at last he began to wonder if even his splendid constitution
would stand a night of this exposure, bound hand and foot, without
serious results. He lay awake for hours, suffering in body but rejoicing
in heart. At last, numb with cold, he sank into a half-doze. He was
aroused by sounds at the door--the cry of a key turning an unoiled lock
and the creak of rusty hinges. Then the welcome gleam of a lantern
flooded to him along the frosty floor. The visitor was Bill Brennen. He
stooped above the sailor and squinted at him curiously. Under his left
arm he carried a caribou skin and several blankets.

"Lad," said he, "ye must be full o' the divil's own ginger to cross the
skipper as ye done. Sure an' the wonder bes why he didn't kill ye dead!
But now that ye still be alive, him not killin' ye in the first flush,