hings which may never come true. When I didn't hear from
Lever, I thought that my worst forebodings were realized and that my
scribbling was worthless. But you know," he paused to fill his pipe,
"writing is more or less like the drug habit. I've told stories all my
life, and I found myself tied to my typewriter in spite of my
disappointment. As for talking about it--well, how much has Val ever
said about these?" He ruffled the pages of the note-book provokingly.

"Nothing. And you would never have seen those if I could have prevented
it," his brother replied. "Those are for my private satisfaction only."

"Two geniuses in one family." Ricky rolled her eyes heavenward. "This is
almost too, too much!"

"Jeems," Val ordered, "you're the nearest. Can't you make her shut up?"

"Just let him try," said his sister sweetly. The swamper grinned but
made no move to stir from his chair.

Jeems had become as much a part of Pirate's Haven as the Luck, which Val
could see from his cot glimmering dully in its niche in the Long Hall.
The swamper's confinement in the sick-room had paled his heavy tan and
he had lost the sullen frown which had made him appear so old and
bitter. Now, dressed in a pair of Val's white slacks and a shirt from
his wardrobe, Jeems was as much at ease in his surroundings as Rupert or
Holmes.

It had been Jeems who had saved Ricky and Val on that night of terror
when they had been trapped in the secret ways of their pirate ancestors.
Sam Two had trailed Ricky to the garden and had witnessed their entering
the tunnel. But his racial fear of the dark unknown had kept him from
venturing in after them. So he had lingered there long enough to see the
invaders come out and take to the river. Catching some words of theirs
about a cave-in, he had gone pelting off to Rupert with the story.

The investigating party from the levee had discovered, to their horror,
the passage choked for half its length. They were making a futile and
dangerous attempt to clear it when Jeems appeared on the scene.
Letty-Lou having given him a garbled account of events, he had staggered
from his bed in an effort to reach Rupert. He alone knew the underground
ways as well as he knew the garden. And so once getting Rupert's
attention, he had set them to work in the cellar cutting through to the
one passage which paralleled the foundation walls.

In the weeks which followed their emergence from the threatened tomb,
the swamper had unobtru