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"Who are you, anyway?" asked Scroggie as he got groggily to his feet.,

"I think," Mr. Johnson's voice was heard above the din, "it would be a good plan to start a fire in that big stove. This place is positively vault like with dampness.",

"It's Jacobs. Listen, Pa, I'll tell you how I know. Anse, you remember, was sort of helper with them drillers till he got askin' too many questions an' they fired him. Well, all he asked 'em, I put him up to ask. Anse was always a mighty good listener an' he often heard these two, Jack and Tom, speak of Jacobs an' call him boss. An' one day when Hinter comes over, Anse heard one of 'em call him Jacobs, an' Hinter was awful mad about it.",

Down the hill came a thin, rangy bay horse, astride which, an open book in his hand, sat Mr. G. G. Johnston. As he drew up in front of the gate he closed the book and turned his frowning eyes on the building. Utterly ignoring the awed, watching faces he shook his head grimly and, looking to neither right nor left, rode in through the open gate. Not until he had unbridled his horse and turned him loose to seek a breakfast as best he knew how, while he investigated the school's interior, did the boys and girls outside give way to their feelings.

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"We are in chase of a ship, my lord," cried Captain Acton, "which we hope to capture.",

"All set," cried Stanhope. "Leave your belt loose so I can hang to it and I'm with you. That's right. Who were they, Billy?",

"Then, of course, it will divert to Mr. Stanhope," answered Hinter. "I must confess," he added, "I doubt very strongly if Mr. Scroggie ever made a will.",

A little later they went back up the road, side by side. Ringdo having heard the call of the forest-creek had strayed into the tangle, perhaps hoping to find a fat frog which had not yet sought its winter sleeping-bog. They paused to watch a red squirrel flash along the zig-zag fence and halt, with twitching tail, as the chatter of the black he was pursuing came down to him from swaying hickory tree-top. High overhead a flock of crows passed silently, black hurtling bodies seeming to brush the grey, low hanging skies as they melted into distance. High above, the shrill whistle of wings told of wild ducks seeking the marshes and the celery beds of the bay.