inted to the supper
table.

"Um! That is to say they are dispersed about their business, but will
all be here to-night?"

She nodded.

"Where's the capt'n?"

She pointed over her left shoulder upwards, placed her two hands out
broad from her temples, then made a motion as of lifting and carrying a
basket, and displaying goods.

"Humph! humph! gone to Tip-top to sell goods disguised as a peddler!"

She nodded. And before he could put another question a low, soft mew was
heard at the door.

"There's 'Stealthy Steve!'--he might walk with hob-nailed high-lows upon
a gravelly road, and you would never hear his footfall," said the man,
as the door noiselessly opened and shut, a soft-footed, low-voiced,
subtle-looking mulatto entered the kitchen, and gave good evening to its
occupants.

"Ha! I'm devilish glad you've come, Steve, for hang me if I'm not tired
to death trying to talk to this crone, who, to the charms of old age and
ugliness, adds that of dumbness. Seen the cap'n?"

"No, he's gone out to hear the people talk, and find out what they think
of him."

Hal burst into a loud and scornful laugh, saying: "I should think it
would not require much seeking to discover that!"

Here the old woman came forward, and, by signs, managed to inquire
whether he had brought her "the tea."

Steve drew a packet from his pocket, saying, softly:

"Yes, mother, when I was in Spicer's store I saw this lying with other
things on the counter, and, remembering you, quietly put it into my
pocket."

The old crone's eyes danced. She seized the packet, patted the excellent
thief on the shoulder, wagged her head deridingly at the delinquent one,
and hobbled off to prepare her favorite beverage.

While she was thus occupied the whistle was once more heard at the door,
followed by the entrance of a man decidedly the most repulsive looking
of the whole party--a man one having a full pocket would scarcely like
to meet on a lonely road in a dark night. In form he was of Dutch
proportions, short but stout, with a large, round head covered with
stiff, sandy hair; broad, flat face; coarse features, pale, half-closed
eyes, and an expression of countenance strangely made up of elements as
opposite as they were forbidding--a mixture of stupidity and subtlety,
cowardice and ferocity, caution and cruelty. His name in the gang was
Demon Dick, a sobriquet of which he was eminently deserving and
characteristically proud.

He came in sulkily,