is. Biler did not refuse obedience, but thrusting a few
fragments of dried codfish into his mouth, heaved a sigh, gave
another dejected look at surrounding space, and then slowly and
mournfully descended to the lower world.

The priest was seated on a water-cask, reading his Breviary, while
Zac stood not far off, looking thoughtfully over the vessel's side.
Terry was at the tiller, not because there was any steering to be
done, but because he thought it would be as well for every one to be
at his post in the event of a change of wind. He had whistled "St.
Patrick's Day in the Morning," and was about beginning another
interminable strain of the same kind. Claude was lounging about, and
gradually drew nearer to the meditative Zac, whom he accosted.

"Well, we don't appear to be making much progress--do we?" said he.

Zac slowly shook his head.

"No," said he; "I must say, I don't like this here one mite. 'Tain't
quite right. Seems kin' o' unlucky."

"Unlucky? How?"

"Wal, fust and foremost, ef it hadn't been you, you'd never a' got me
to pint the Parson's nose for that French hole, Louisbourg."

"Why not?" asked Claude, in some surprise; "you don't suppose that
there's any danger--do you?"

"Wal, it's a risky business--no doubt o' that thar. You see, my
'pinion is this, that Moosoo's my nat'ral born enemy, an' so I don't
like to put myself into his power."

"O, there's no danger," said Claude, cheerily. "There's peace now,
you know--as yet."

Zac shook his head.

"No," said he, "that ain't so. There ain't never real peace out here.
There's on'y a kin' o' partial peace in the old country. Out here, we
fight, an' we've got to go on fightin', till one or the other goes
down. An' as to peace, 'tain't goin' to last long, even in the old
country, 'cordin' to all accounts. There's fightin' already off in
Germany, or somewhars, they say."

"But you know," said Claude, "you thought you could manage this for
me somehow. You said you could put me ashore somewhere without
trusting yourself in Louisbourg harbor--some bay or other--wasn't it?
I forget what the name is. There's no trouble about that now--is
there?"

"Wal, not more'n thar was afore," said Zac, slowly; "on'y it seems
more resky to me here, jest now, settin' here this way, inactive
like; p'aps it's the fog that's had a kin' o' depressin' effect on my
sperrits; it's often so. Or mebbe it's the effect of the continooal
hearin' of that darned frog-eatin' Fre