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The sun was almost on the western horizon now and the ducks were beginning to come in fast, most of them from off the bay; consequently the shooters in the front pond had always first chance. But Billy knew they were having little or no success. Every duck that offered itself as a target to them he saw almost as soon as they did and although the report of their guns sounded at quick intervals the ducks seemed to keep on, straight across to where he crouched with the excited dog by his side.,

A minute or two later Paul came out, shutting the door after him.,

"You got as far as the pond!" Hinter cried in wonder. The eyes turned on Billy's face were searching. "And you found only a long shallow of stagnant, stinking water, I'll be bound," he laughed, uneasily.,

"Ay, your honour," answered the fellow with a grin decidedly above a clown's intelligence.

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Down through the night-enshrouded woods the boys made their way noiselessly, Billy leading, Walter Watland, nicknamed Fatty on account of his size, close behind him and Maurice Keeler, Billy's sworn chum and confidant, bringing up the rear. Occasionally a soft-winged owl fluttered up from its kill, with a muffled "who-who." Once a heavy object plunged from the trail with a snort, and the boys felt the flesh along their spines creeping. They kept on without so much as a word, crossing a swift creek on a fallen tree, holding to its bank and making a detour into the woods to avoid passing close to a dilapidated log cabin which in the moonlight bore evidence of having fallen into disuse. As they skirted the heavy thicket of pines, which even in the summer night's stillness sighed low and mournfully, the leader halted suddenly and a low exclamation fell from his lips.,

Jim nodded across to the girl in white. "That's Lou," he informed Billy, "my sister.",

She looked up at him suddenly with her eyes trembling cunningly again as when she asked the phantom to view her treasure, and with a look impossible to portray but which convinced him that she did not know him, and in a voice that was almost tender with its note of seeking after sympathy and help,[Pg 325] she exclaimed: "Are you come here to liberate me, to restore me to my father, who weeps because he thinks I am lost, to rescue me from the wicked arts of a treacherous man—oh, tell me so, tell me so!" she cried, springing to her feet, and extending her arms.,

Billy bent and patted an imaginary something on the ground. "Good ol' Ringdo," he said. "Nice ol' Ringdo." That was the last straw. With a croak of anguish Croaker swooped down and lit on his master's shoulder. Promptly five fingers gripped his feet.