been
afraid, I shouldn't come, of course."

By this time the Greyhound was off the little inlet, near Mr.
Batterman's garden, and, as a matter of prudence, all conversation was
suspended. The boat shot into the inlet, and was made fast to the same
tree as on the former occasion. As the business of these hopeful youths
was not with the melon patch, they took a different road this time.

They had gone but a short distance before the rushing of a boat through
the water was heard. They paused and Richard saw a sail, which he
believed he had seen before that night, pass by the mouth of the inlet.
He caught but a glance of it, as it cut a tangent along the small
circle of his vision.

"I don't like the looks of that boat, Sandy," whispered Richard, as the
sail disappeared in the gloom.

"Why not?"

"What is any one sailing about the river at this time of night for?"

"I don't know," added Sandy, who did not seem to be at all alarmed at
the appearance of the boat.

"I think I have seen her before to-night," continued Richard.

"If you are afraid, we will both back out, and then neither can twit
the other."

"I'm not afraid; come along. I've no notion of backing out." And
Richard moved on, followed by his reluctant associate.

When they had ascended the hill, they carefully walked all over the
grounds to satisfy themselves that the farmer and his man were not
keeping vigil over the melons; but they could neither see nor hear any
thing that betokened the presence of a human being. Satisfied with this
survey of the ground, Richard led the way to the barn, where he had
received his terrible flagellation. The memories of the place were not
pleasant, and they intensified the hatred he bore the owner of the
premises, and fanned the flame of vengeance that was burning in his
soul.

The barn was an old building, and very much out of repair. It contained
the farmer's horses and oxen, his wagons, his hay, and other produce.
On the side nearest to the river, some of the boards had been forced
partly off by the pressure of the hay; and against one of these places
Richard sat down upon the ground.

"Pull out some of the hay, Sandy," whispered Richard, as he drew from
his pocket the bottle which he had taken from the locker of the boat.

Sandy hinted something about backing out again; but a sneer from
Richard silenced him, and he obeyed the order. While he was doing so,
Richard walked round the barn to satisfy himself that