matter. I've seen so very much mischief done from
putting off; and if a thing's worth doing, it's worth doing at once;
take my advice--`There's no time like the present;' `Never put off till
to-morrow what you can do to-day;' these are two good proverbs. I've
found them of immense value in my line of life."

"Yes; they're very good proverbs, no doubt," said Frank, laughing; "but
there are some as good, perhaps, on the other side, though you won't
think so; for instance, `Second thoughts are best,' and `Better late
than never.'"

"True, Mr Oldfield; but `late' often runs into never."

Frank made a gay, evasive reply, and turned hastily away, leaving Jacob
to arrange some matters in his cabin, while he went himself on shore.

He was loitering about among the warehouses till Jacob should join him,
when a figure which seemed familiar to him approached, in earnest
conversation with another man, but he could not see the face of either
distinctly. After a while they parted, and the man whom he seemed to
recognise was left alone, and turned towards him. But could it really
be? Dare he believe his eyes? Yes; there could be no mistake, it was
indeed Juniper Graves. That rather reckless character was, however,
much more spruce in his appearance, and better dressed, than when in
Frank Oldfield's service. There was an assumption of the fine gentleman
about him, which made him look ludicrously contemptible, and had Frank
not been roused to furious indignation at the sight of him, he could
hardly have refrained from a violent outburst of merriment at the absurd
airs and graces of his former servant. As it was, breathless with
wrath, his eyes flashing, and his face in a crimson glow, he rushed upon
the object of his just resentment, and, seizing him by the collar,
exclaimed in a voice of suppressed passion,--

"You--you confounded scoundrel! you rascally thief! So I've caught you
at last. I'll make very short work with _you_, you ungrateful villain."

Then he paused for a moment, and shaking him violently, added,--

"What have you to say for yourself, why I shouldn't hand you over at
once to the police?"

Nothing could be more whimsically striking than the contrast between
Juniper Graves' grand and jaunty bearing a moment before, and his
present utter crawling abjectness. He became white with terror, and
looked the very picture of impotent cowardice. But this was but for a
minute; then his self-possession returned