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"What sort of a fellow was this who stopped Miss Acton?" enquired the Admiral. "Was he a pauper? Broken clothes, whining voice, the suppliant's demeanour—that sort of thing?" "How 'bout quail?" No more would the fire-flies weave a gauze of golden stars above the marshlands at the foot of the Causeway. The season of green and blue had lived and died and in its place had been born a season of drab and brown. Summer was gone. The song-birds had migrated. Soon the green rush fields would sway, grey and dead and the bronze woodcocks would whistle away from the bog-lands, for seldom did they tarry after the first frost. Along the creek the red-winged black-birds would be sounding their up-and-away notes. No happy carol to welcome the first glow of dawn! No wonder Billy sighed. Then he lifted his head quickly as, high above him, sounded the whistle of wings. Up from the north a wedgeshaped flock of wild ducks came speeding, white backs flashing as they pitched downward in unbroken formation towards the calling bay-waters..

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Billy's face cracked into a grin which he was careful to turn from his step-brother. "How'd you like to do all the firin' an' get all the reward, Anse?" he suggested. "I've got a milk-snake here that I want'a get put safe away in the root-house afore Ma takes in the lantern. Maurice'll come along an' help me stow him away." Erie's face went very white. "He mustn't come here any more," she said quickly. "With your permission I shall tell him so, Daddy." They crossed the sunflecked grass, hand in hand. As they reached the pine grove the girl pointed away above the trees. "Look," she whispered. "She looks to me, sir, a worn-out bit of a brig about a hundred tons. Most sartinly there's nothing to be afraid of in her.".