I had approached
his home with joy, as that of an old friend. There, I knew, I would
find horses, guns, dogs, good sport and a simple welcome; and I could
read or ride as I preferred. A king among all the cousins of Jean
Lafitte, Monsieur Edouard. Hereabouts ran the old causeway by which
the wagon reached the "importations" of Jean's barges, brought inland
from his schooners hid in the marshes far below. Here, too, as is well
known in all the state, was the burying-ground of Jean Lafitte's
treasure-chests: for, though the old adventurer sold silks and
tobaccos and sugars very cheap to the planters and traders, he
secreted, as is well known, great store of plate, bullion and minted
coins, at divers points about the several miles of forest covered
heights; so that the very atmosphere thereabout--till custom stales it
for the visitor who comes often there--reeks with the flavor of pieces
of eight, Spanish doubloons, and rare gems of the Orient. Laughingly,
many a time Monsieur Edouard had agreed to go a-treasure hunting with
me, even had showed me several of the curious old treasure-keys, maps
and cabalistic characters which tell the place where Lafitte and his
men buried their gold--such maps as are kept as secret heirlooms in
many a Cajun family.

But now, as I saw myself once more approaching this pleasant spot so
well known to me, I felt little of the old thrill of eagerness come
over me. True, Edouard would be there, and the dogs, and the birds,
and the horses, and the quiet welcome. True, also, I could, either in
truth or by evasion, establish a pleasant and conventional footing for
all my party--it would be easy to explain so natural and pleasant an
incident as a visit during a yacht cruise, and to laugh at all that
silly newspaper sensation which by now must fully have blown over.
True, Monsieur Edouard would be charmed to meet the woman whose
influence on my life he knew so well. Yes, I could tell him
everything easily, nicely, except the truth; which was, that I was
bringing to another man's arms the woman whom he knew I loved. No, the
blue loom of Manning's Island gave me no joy now. I wished it three
thousand miles away instead of thirty. I wished that almost anything
might prevent my arrival--accident, delay.

And then, in the most natural way in the world, there were both!
Without much warning, the pulse of our engine slackened, the throb of
our single screw slowed down and ceased. Williams stuck his head