ry to catch a hare."

"All fair and softly, Mr. Thorwald. Don't take on so. It ain't two
o'clock yet; we've lots o' time. Henry has arranged to get a boat ready
for him. At twelve o'clock to-night the doors will be opened, and he'll
start for the boat. It will lie concealed among the rocks off the Long
Point. There's no mistakin' the spot, just west of the village; an' if
you place your niggers there, you'll have as good chance as need be to
nab 'em. Indeed, there's _two_ boats to be in waitin' for the pirate
captain and his friends--set 'em up!"

"And where is the second boat to be hidden?" asked Ole.

"I'm not sure of the exact spot; but it can't be very far off from the
tother, cer'nly not a hundred miles," said Bumpus, with a grin. "Now,
wot I want is, that if ye get hold of the pirate ye'll be content, an'
not go an' peach on Henry an' his comrades. They'll be so ashamed o'
themselves at bein' nabbed in the wery act that they'll give it up as a
bad job. Besides, ye can then go an' give him in charge of Capting
Montague. But if ye try to _prewent_ the escape bein' attempted, Henry
will take the bloody way of it; for I tell _you_, his birse is up, an'
no mistake."

"How many men are to be with Gascoyne?" asked Thorwald, who, had he not
been naturally a stupid man, must have easily seen through this clumsy
attempt to blind him.

"Just four," answered Bumpus; "an' I'm to be one of 'em."

"Well, Bumpus, I'll take your advice. I shall be at the Long Point
before twelve, with a dozen niggers, and I'll count on you lending us a
hand."

"No, ye mustn't count on that, Mr. Thorwald. Surely, it's enough if I
run away and leave the others to fight."

"Very well; do as you please," said Thorwald, with a look of contempt.

"Good day, Mr. Thorwald. You'll be sure to be there?"

"Trust me."

"An' you'll not a word about it to nobody?"

"Not a syllable."

"That's all square. You'll see the boat w'en ye git there, and as long
as ye see that boat yer all right. Good day, sir."

John Bumpus left Thorwald's house chuckling, and wended his way to the
widow's cottage, whistling the "Groves of Blarney."

CHAPTER XXXI.

THE AMBUSH--THE ESCAPE--RETRIBUTIVE JUSTICE--AND CONCLUSION.

An hour before the appointed time, Ole Thorwald, under cover of a dark
night, stole out of his own dwelling, with slow and wary step, and
crossed the little plot of ground that lay in front of it, with the sly
and mysterious air of a