y, while
his heavy, bushy brows met together as if he were in deep study, and
uneasy mutterings escaped from his lips. Suddenly he rose and left his
companion.

As he shambled away to the far end of the council-house, he caught sight
of a number of native women and children advancing towards himself and
his passenger. Foremost among them was the old woman Malineta, her lean
and wrinkled face wreathed in smiles, for the white man's child, whom
she still carried, had placed one arm around her neck. As she drew near
the American, the little one smiled and made as if she wished to go to
him, or to her father who stood near by.

Holding out his arms to the child, the skipper took her from the old
woman, and then he turned to Prout.

"Say, I've jest been reckonin' up an' I make out yew hev been jest four
months aboard o' my hooker thar, an' I reckon thet twenty dollars a
month ain't more'n a fair an' square deal."

Again the red flush mantled to the trader's brow. "No, no, Hetherington.
I am poor, but not so poor that I should insult you by such an
insignificant sum as that. Two hundred and fifty dollars I can give
you easily, and freely and willingly," and advancing to the captain he
offered him a number of twenty-dollar gold pieces.

An angry "Pshaw!" burst from the captain. He thrust the proffered
money aside, and then, with his leathern visage working in strange
contortions, he walked quickly outside, and sitting down upon an old
unused canoe, bent his grizzled head, and strained the child to his
bosom. And presently Prout and the natives heard something very like the
sound of a sob.

Then, as if ashamed of his emotion, he suddenly rose, and kissing the
child tenderly, gave her back to the woman Malineta. Then he turned to
Prout.

"Waal, I guess I'll be goin'.... Naow, jest yew put them air cursed
dollars back again. It's jest like yew darned Britishers, ter want ter
shove money inter a man's hand, jest like ez if he war a nigger, an'
hadn't a red cent ter buy a slice of watermelon with," and then all his
assumed roughness failed him, and his eyes grew misty as he grasped the
Englishman's hand for the last time.

"Thet thar Mercedy.... Why, I hed sich a little mite once...." and he
chewed fiercely at the fresh plug he had thrust into his cheek.

"Dead?" queried Prout, softly.

"Yes; diphthery. Yew see it came about th' way. When I got back ter
Cohoes--thet's whar I belong--after that cussed pirut Semmes sunk