t had fast settled about them hid the
added meaning that passed in a curious look over the other's face.

"Odd way to come in, though--very odd!" continued the old man, gurgling
and shaking as if the thought of it occasioned him great merriment.
"Very cautious. Level business head. Want to know that things are on
the square, eh?"

"That's it!" exclaimed Captain Plum, catching at the proffered straw.
Inwardly he was wondering when his feet would touch bottom. Thus far he
had succeeded in getting but a single grip on the situation. Somebody
was expected at Beaver Island with powder and balls and guns. Well, he
had a certain quantity of these materials aboard his sloop, and if he
could make an agreeable bargain--

The old man interrupted the plan that was slowly forming itself in
Captain Plum's puzzled brain.

"It's the price, eh?" He laughed shrewdly. "You want to see the color of
the gold before you land the goods. I'll show it to you. I'll pay you
the whole sum to-night. Then you'll take the stuff where I tell you to.
Eh? Isn't that so?" He darted ahead of Captain Plum with a quick alert
movement. "Will you please follow me, sir?"

For an instant Captain Plum's impulse was to hold back. In that instant
it suddenly occurred to him that he was lending himself to a rank
imposition. At the same time he was filled with a desire to go deeper
into the adventure, and his blood thrilled with the thought of what it
might hold for him.

"Are you coming, sir?"

The little old man had stopped a dozen paces away and turned
expectantly.

"I tell you again that you've got the wrong man, Dad!"

"Will you follow me, sir?"

"Well, if you'll have it so--damned if I won't!" cried Captain Plum. He
felt that he had relieved his conscience, anyway. If things should
develop badly for him during the next few hours no one could say that he
had lied. So he followed light-heartedly after the old man, his eyes and
ears alert, and his right hand, by force of habit, reaching under his
coat to the butt of his pistol. His guide said not another word until
they had traveled for half an hour along a twisting path and stood at
last on the bald summit of a knoll from which they could look down upon
a number of lights twinkling dimly a quarter of a mile away. One of
these lights gleamed above all the others, like a beacon set among
fireflies.

"That's St. James," said the old man. His voice had changed. It was low
and soft, as though he feared