il he arrived within sight of
the gate leading to Mr. Beardsley's yard, and saw three men standing
close inside of it. The night was so dark he could not see who they
were, and without giving the circumstance a second thought, he was about
to retrace his steps, when the men moved into the road, and two of them
made a few steps in his direction, but turned suddenly about as if
listening to some parting instructions from the one they had left
behind. Marcy waited to see no more, but walked rapidly homeward,
unconscious of the fact that the men followed a little distance in his
rear, although they did not see him. When he reached the carriage-way
Marcy did not immediately go to the house, but paced up and down the
road in a brown study, from which he was presently aroused by the sound
of footsteps. A few seconds later a figure loomed up in the darkness,
and Marcy thought he recognized in it one of the men he had seen on
board the schooner that afternoon. The figure discovered him at the same
moment, halted abruptly, and said in cautious tones, as if fearful of
being overheard:

"Who's there?"

"It's no one who will hurt you," was the boy's reply. "Toddle right
along about your business."

"Any dogs laying around?"

"Nary dog. I'm alone."

These answers must have satisfied the man, for he advanced without
further hesitation, and peered sharply into Marcy's face.

"What you doing out here?" he asked, as though he had a right to know;
and then Marcy saw that he had not been mistaken. The man was one of the
ship-keepers.

"What's that to you, and who are you?" he replied, with spirit.

"I don't mean any offense--I don't really," said the man hastily. "But
it is rather strange that I should find you so easy when you are the
very one I was looking for. I didn't know whether it would be safe to
come or not, for you have dogs in plenty, like all the rest of the
planters about here. I am Sam Tierney, and I belong to Beardsley's
privateer. You are Marcy Gray, and have been engaged to take the
schooner through out-of-the-way inlets that the old man is not
acquainted with. Let's go down the road a piece. I'd like to talk to you
a minute, if you don't care."

"Why can't you say what you have to say right where you stand?" inquired
Marcy. "There's no one to overhear you if your communication is
private."

"Private? Well, you'll think so when you hear what it is. Come down the
road."

It was right on the end of the boy's