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As the carriage went down a lane into the main road, it overtook Sir William Lawrence, who was stoutly trudging along in the [Pg 86]direction of Old Harbour, striking the ground as he went with a staff with the regularity of the pounding of a wooden leg whose owner marches steadily. At which some laughed and some scoffed. Deacon Ringold had sternly advised the old man to return to the country where black magic was still countenanced, as there was no place for it in an enlightened and Christian community such as Scotia, a suggestion that old Harry took in seeming good humor. But the fact that the deacon lost two milk cows and four hogs, through sickness during the fortnight which followed, had caused considerable discussion throughout the settlement. "Say, you give me a pain," cried Billy. "Don't you 'spose we've got all we kin do ahead of us now?".

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"Fisherman Shipley wanted to buy a cow from me on time," he said. "I refused him. If you don't mind, Deacon, I'll lead her down behind your wagon tomorrow." "Whew!" he whistled, "an' all gold, too. The three pieces that Croaker took make the even three thousand." "Bah! mommie's baby boy won't fight?" taunted the eager one. "But by gollies! I'm goin' to make you," he added, scowling fiercely. He ran out of the cabin. The Admiral pillowed his son's head with his arm, and gazed at the marble-still features. Never could any man appear more stricken, though 'tis hard to tell by posture or by expression of face the depth of human sorrow, the pang of the wound that death alone can heal. His only son—whom he had cursed for his wickedness—whose professional life, extinguished by an act of drunken madness, had swelled the eyes of the father with the unshed tears of the spirit of[Pg 439] a man—lying dead or dying on his arm—self-slain!.