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He was as good as his word. Wilson was just finishing the morning's milking, when the deacon returned. "No other offers, Tom," he said. "Looks as though they were after this particular strip of territory. Anyhow it's agreed that none of us will sell or rent without consultin' the others, so I guess we can wait on Hinter's game all right." In silence they made their way across the clearing to the road. "Say, Bill," said Maurice, as they paused to rest on the top rail of the fence, "do you 'spose we best tell our dads about seein' them men?" "If I had only listened to you, Jack, we wouldn't have lost that whisky," he said. "I was dead sure nobody would go near that place. And at that we didn't find what we did the job to get, did we? It'll be just our luck to have that will turn up in time to cook our goose, yet.".

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"An' that's why you throwed it," exclaimed the admiring Maurice. "Gosh, nobody else would'a thought of that." Billy found himself, face down, on the wet moss. Maurice was tugging at his arm. The stricken tree had burst into flame, beneath the ghostly light of which path, creek and pine-grove stood out clear-limned as a cameo against a velvet background. Billy noted this as he sat dazedly up. He and Maurice were alone; old Harry had vanished. Meanwhile Lucy Acton watched and waited on the quarterdeck of the Aurora. The hour was about half-past four. The breeze was sinking with the sun; it still blew with weight enough to keep the sails of the three ships steady. But the dance of the sea was growing languid, the rolling foam of the breaking head was wanting in brilliance of flash and friskiness of somersault; the blue of the deep was darkening, and spread in violet shot with light blue and purple gleams to the margin of[Pg 443] the reflected glory of the sun where the lines of light steeped into the richer colour. Lucy touched the keys..