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"'Tain't enough fer a three-way split," said Maurice. "What's the matter, don't you want him?" asked his mother. "I thought maybe you'd like to have him, seein's you're such cronies an' there must be some good in him in spite of his looks. I could have them partridges that Joe Scraff sent over roasted with bacon strips across 'em, an' baked potatoes, an' maybe I might boil an apple dumplin'." The night came down in a heavy shadow that was not lightened by its burden of stars. The foam of the sea looked as spectral as the faint astral splashes in the velvet deeps on high through which sailed many visionary shapes of cloud. A little time before it fell dark, and when the soft, moist crimson of the sun that was set yet lurked in the west, the steward Paul went aft with lanterns for the cabins occupied by the Captain, the mate, and Miss Lucy Acton. The great cabin, or living-room, was already lighted by two lanterns which swung from hooks on either side the skylight fore-and-aft. The lanterns Paul bore were small, of iron frames fitted with glass, and in them was consumed a mesh which was fed with oil..
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"Why, I've got a hunch that somebody's layin' for you, that's all," answered Maurice. "'Course, I may be wrong. Am I?" "Yep, she does jest that. She don't seem to know any better. Birds an' animals are queer that way. Why, even a weasel'll nurse a baby rabbit along with her own kittens if it's hungry." Half an hour later, seated about the roaring fire in Stanhope's cottage, huge cups of hot coffee on their knees, the venturesome strangers seemed none the worse for their trying experience. The larger of the two, a powerfully-built man with pleasant clean shaven face and keen blue eyes, turned now to Stanhope. "Go an' tell Croaker an' Ringdo the whole business, an' let that crow an' swamp-coon 'tend to you.".
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