red, but could not speak.

"From the spring at the end of the island," cried the man, "to this
house since yesterday afternoon! I have always supposed that no one
could get here from the spring by land. I call that way impassable. You
are safe here, sir, I am sure. Pirates would not follow very far through
those forests and morasses; they would be afraid they would never get
back to their ship. But I will find out for certain if you have reason,
sir, to fear pursuit by boat or otherwise."

And then, stepping around to the other end of the house, he called,
"Lucilla!"

"You are hungry, sir," said the woman; "presently you shall share our
meal, which is almost cooked."

Now the man returned.

"This is not a time for questions, sir," he said, "either from you or
from us. You must eat and you must rest, then we can talk. We shall not
any of us apologize for our appearance, and you will not expect it when
you have heard our story. But I can assure you, sir, that we do not look
nearly so strange to you as you appear to us. Never before, sir, did I
see in this climate, and on shore, a man attired in such fashion."

Dickory smiled. "I will tell you the tale of it," he said, "when we have
eaten; I admit that I am famished."

The man was now called away, and when he returned he said to Dickory:
"Fear nothing, sir; your ship is no longer at the anchorage by the
spring. She has sailed away, wisely concluding, I suppose, that pursuit
of you would be folly, and even madness."

The dinner was an exceedingly plain one, spread upon a rude table under
a tree. The little girl, who had overcome her fear of "the soldier" as
she considered him, made one of the party.

During the meal Dickory briefly told his story, confining it to a mere
statement of his escape from the pirates.

"Blackbeard!" exclaimed the man. "Truly you did well to get away from
him, no matter into what forests you plunged or upon what desert island
you lost yourself. At any moment he might have turned upon you and cut
you to pieces to amuse himself. I have heard the most horrible stories
of Blackbeard."

"He treated me very well," said Dickory, "but I know from his own words
that he reserved me for a most horrible fate."

"What!" exclaimed the man, "and he told you? He is indeed a demon!"

"Yes," said Dickory, "he said over and over again that he was going to
take me to England to marry me to his daughter."

At this the wife could not refrain from a smil