r. Freeman sharply; "and a Cape Cod man
ought to be the last to say such a thing."

"You're not a Tory, then?" exclaimed the man eagerly. "Get right out of
that chaise and come in. These your girls? Let me help you out, missy,"
and he came toward the carriage.

"Get out, Anne," said Mr. Freeman in a low tone, and in a moment the two
girls were following the black-bearded man into a low dark kitchen.

"You folks looked so dressed up I thought like as not you were Tories,"
declared the man, as if wishing to explain his rude reception. "Now take
seats, and I'll put your horse where it can have a bit of fodder."

Mr. Freeman followed the man back to the shed, and Anne and Rose looked
at each other, and then glanced about the low dark room.

"I don't believe he's a pirate," whispered Anne; "anyway I'm glad to be
in out of this dreadful storm."

"So am I," answered Rose, "but it is a funny house. What do you suppose
made Lady turn in at that place? This man may not be a pirate, but there
is something odd about him. This whole place is queer. I almost wish we
had stayed in the chaise."

Under the two windows that faced toward the woods ran a long box-like
seat, and in one corner of the room stood a shoemaker's bench, with its
rows of awls, needles threaded with waxed thread, hammers, sharp knives,
tiny wooden pegs, and bits of leather; a worn boot lay on the floor as
if the man had started up from his work at Mr. Freeman's rap.

"What's that, Rose?" questioned Anne, pointing to a piece of iron that
could be seen extending from beneath an old blanket which lay under the
bench.

"It's a rifle!" answered Rose. "Look, Anne! Quick, before he comes back.
I believe there are a lot of guns there."

Anne knelt down to lift the blanket. Rose was close beside her, leaning
over to see what the blanket might conceal, when the kitchen door swung
open and the man entered. As he looked at the two girls his face
darkened again, and he came quickly forward.

"Aha!" he muttered. "It's just as I thought. Pretty clever of the old
Tory to bring these girls along to peek about and find out all they
can," but the girls did not hear him until he stood beside them, and
then his scowl was gone and he spoke pleasantly: "A good many rifles
for one man, but they are not all mine. I'm storing them for friends."

"Where's father?" asked Rose, a little anxiously.

"He's giving the pretty horse a rub down," answered the man; "now
there's a bette