inly, and we
must get back with the news as quick as we can."

Much as Cabot hated to give over the exploration of that wonderful
copper-bearing ledge, he did not hesitate to obey the imperative call
of friendship, and accompanied Cola with all speed back to the village.
When they reached it they found White jubilant over the extraordinary
catch of lobsters that was even then being brought in.

"Hurrah!" he cried, as Cabot appeared. "Biggest catch of the season,
and you are just in time to help pack it away. But what brings you
back so early? I thought you were off for all day."

"Oh, White, they are coming!" gasped Cola.

"Who are coming?"

"A warship. I saw it from Maintop."

"British or French?"

"I don't know. I only knew it was a warship because it was so much
bigger than the 'Harlaw' and had tall masts."

"Well, it don't make any difference," growled White, "one is just as
bad as another, and our business is ruined anyway. Why couldn't they
have kept away for three days longer?"

"What will they do?" inquired Cabot, curiously.

"I don't know," replied White, bitterly. "Either destroy or seize the
whole plant and leave us to starve at our leisure. Now, I suppose we
might as well go up to the house and tell mother. There's no use doing
any more work under the circumstances."

"I don't see why not," objected Cabot, who was not accustomed to
throwing up a fight before it was begun. "There is a possibility that
the vessel may not be a warship after all, and another that she is not
coming to this place. Even if she does, you don't know that she has
any warrant for interfering with your business. So, if I were you, I'd
go right on with the work and keep at it until some one compelled me to
stop. I say, though, speaking of warrants gives me an idea. All you
want is three days' delay, isn't it?"

"That is what I want most just now," replied White.

"Well, then, why not place this property in the name of some
friend--David Gidge, for instance--and when those men-of-war people
begin to make trouble let him ask them whose factory it is they are
after. They will say yours, or your mother's, of course. Then he'll
speak up and say in that case they've come to the wrong place, since
this is the property of Mr. David Gidge, while their warrant only
mentions that of Mrs. Whiteway Baldwin. It'll be a big bluff, of
course, and won't work for very long, but it may puzzle 'em a bit and
give the delay o