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CHAPTER VIII WHERE IS LUCY? Captain Weaver sped aft, and in a few moments the English Ensign soared to the mizzen-gaff end and streamed out fair to the sight of the approaching fleet. "That don't make no difference; you go along. I see Ann's made a mistake in doin' up Mrs. Keeler's parcels. You can't go back for a bit, anyways, so you might as well have your supper.".

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"Yes ma'am," admitted Maurice cheerfully. "I guess I should'a told you first off but Ma she said if you was busy not to say anythin' 'bout her breakin' it." "As I say, I came here to prospect. I found plenty of surface evidence of oil and gas but without capital I was helpless. I learned that a thousand-acre tract of woods, rich in oil indications, was owned by Pennsylvania Scroggie. I knew that he was a hog and that if I showed my hand too clearly he would kick me under and go it alone. Through a friend who owned a lake schooner I made Scroggie a proposition. I guaranteed to show him a virgin oil territory and operate his rigs for a certain percentage of the output. This he agreed to. Then he came and when he found that the vein lay on his own land he was furious and tried to break the contract. "It shall be extended sir, it shall be extended," broke in Captain Acton. A full moon was veiling lake and bay in sheen of silvery whiteness as Hinter and Erie went out into the August night. Eastward the long pine covered Point swept a dark line against the grey, shadowy rush-lands. Somewhere among the hidden ponds mallards and grey ducks were quacking contentedly as they fed. A swamp coon raised his almost human cry as he crept the sandy shores in search of the frogs whose tanging notes boomed from the boglands..