tirely concealed, they crouched low. The
old man was more concerned with the pest of insects and he reached out
to claw up the sticky mud with which he plastered his face and neck like
a mask. This seemed to give him some relief and his comrades were glad
to do the same. Bill Saxby was attentive to the priming of the musket,
which he passed over to Trimble Rogers, saying:

"You are the chief gunner, old hawk. But hold your fire. I'm itching to
know what trick this Don Whiskerando is up to."

"Fair enough," muttered the old man. "Cap'n Bonnet 'ud clap me in irons
if I slew this filthy Ed'ard Teach and robbed him of that enjoyment.
I'll pull no trigger save in our own defense."

They heard the faint splash of oars. Soon the little cock-boat came
gliding around the bend of the shore and floated into the mouth of the
creek. Bill Saxby raised himself for a moment and ducked swiftly as he
whispered:

"He is not lookin' about but motions 'em to row on up the stream."

"Then our canoe is not what he's after?" murmured Jack.

"'Tis some queer game. Were he hunting us, he'd fetch along more hands
than them two. Hush! Let him pass."

The little boat came steadily on, the tide helping the oars. It sat very
low in the water, oddly so for the weight of three men. Blackbeard,
hunched in the stern, held a pistol in one hand while the other gripped
the tiller. This was not in fear of danger from the shore because he
kept his eyes on the two seamen at the oars and it was plain to see that
the pistol was meant to menace them.

The boat passed abreast of the pirogue so artfully concealed in the
pocket of a tiny cove. The intervening distance was no more than a dozen
yards. Old Trimble Rogers wistfully fingered the musket and lifted it to
squint along the barrel. Never was temptation more sturdily resisted.
Then his face, hard as iron and puckered like dried leather, broke into
a smile. The idea pleased him immensely. They would follow Blackbeard
and watch the chance to take him alive. He who had trapped his own men
in camp was now neatly trapped himself, his retreat cut off. Tie a
couple of fathom of stout cord to his whiskers and tow him along by
land, all the way to Stede Bonnet's ship. There the worthy captain could
bargain with him at his own terms, silently chuckled the old buccaneer.

They held their breath and gazed at the fantastic scoundrel who had made
himself the ogre among pirates. He had discarded the great hat as
cu