on I am now about to risk
everything, even her own esteem. Yet, she will forgive me; I will earn
her forgiveness by such devoted love."

He hurried on until he reached an outer gate, through which old Oliver
was driving a cart loaded with wood. As if to disencumber himself, he
threw his game bag and valuable fowling piece to the old man, saying:

"There, uncle; there's a present for you," and without waiting to hear
his thanks, hurried on, leaping hedges and ditches, until he came to the
spot where he had left his horse tied since the morning. Throwing
himself into his saddle, he put spurs to his horse, and galloped away
toward the village, nor drew rein until he reached a little tavern on
the water side. He threw his bridle to an hostler in waiting, and
hurrying in, demanded to be shown into a private room. The little parlor
was placed at his disposal. Here, for form's sake, he called for the
newspaper, cigars and a bottle of wine (none of which he discussed,
however), dismissed the attendant, and sat waiting.

Presently the odor of tar, bilge water, tobacco and rum warned him that
his expected visitor was approaching. And an instant after the door was
opened, and a short, stout, dark man in a weather-proof jacket, duck
trousers, cow-hide shoes, and tarpaulin hat entered.

"Well, Miles, I've been waiting for you here more than an hour," said
Thurston, impatiently.

"Ay, ay, sir--all right. I've been cruising round, reconnoitering the
enemy's coast," replied the man, removing the quid of tobacco from his
mouth, and reluctantly casting it into the fire.

"You are sure you know the spot?"

"Ay, ay? sir--the beach just below the Old Fields farmhouse."

"And south of the Pine Bluff."

"Ay, ay, sir. I know the port--that ain't the head wind!" said Jack
Miles, pushing up the side of his hat, and scratching his head with a
look of doubt and hesitation.

"What is, then, you blockhead?" asked Thurston, impatiently; "is your
hire insufficient?"

"N-n-n--yes--I dunno! You see, cap'n, if I wer' cock sure, as that 'ere
little craft you want carried of wer' yourn."

"Hush! don't talk so loud. You're not at sea in a gale, you fool. Well,
go on. Speak quickly and speak lower."

"I wer' gwine to say, if so be I wer' sure you wer' the cap'n of her,
why then it should be plain sailing, with no fog around, and no breakers
ahead."

"Well! I am, you fool. She is mine--my wife."

"Well, but, cap'n," said the speaker, still