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"I suppose, sir," said Miss Acton to the[Pg 165] Admiral, "that there is no further news of the descent of the French.",Billy knew that Croaker would hang close to his enemy all morning and feeling reasonably sure that no further trips to the hidden treasure would be made during his absence on his mother's errand he started for Keeler's. At the road gate he met Cobin coming in, a pitchfork on his shoulder. Keeler and Billy's father "changed works" during wheat and corn harvest, and the former was coming over to help haul in fodder.,A murmur broke from the men.,Mrs. Wilson remained thoughtful. Billy, watching her with furtive speculation, hoped from the relaxing lines in her brow that all was well with the world once more. Hope became an assurance with her next words.,Billy sat down on a stump. "I don't bear no grudge, do you?" he asked.,"Of the Norfolk Fellowes?" enquired Captain Acton, after bows and smiles had been exchanged.,Now, a boy may make up his mind to die a hero, but no boy cares to be ushered out by gibes and "I-told-you-so's." Billy promptly adopted new tactics. "This ain't my suit, Ma," he said.,"Why, he didn't go. He's in the liquor-shop settin' a trap for that rat, Pa.",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.,Next day was Sunday and Billy did not like Sundays. They meant the scrubbing of his face, ears and neck with "Old Brown Windsor" soap until it fairly cracked if he so much as smiled, and being lugged off with his parents and Anse to early forenoon Sunday School in the little frame church in the Valley. There was nothing interesting about Sunday School; it was the same old hum-drum over and over again—same lessons, same teachers, same hymns, same tunes; with Deacon Ringold's assertive voice cutting in above all the other voices both in lessons and singing and with Mrs. Scraff's shrill treble reciting, for her class's edification, her pet verse: "Am I nothing to thee, all ye who pass by?"—only Mrs. Scraff always improvised more or less on the scriptures, and usually threw the verse defiantly from her in this form: "You ain't nuthin to me, all you who pass me by.","The best course we can adopt," cried Lord Garlies, "is to keep the width of the horizons between us. I will take the western and you the eastern seaboard. This from aloft will enable us to command a large surface of sea. The rig of the vessel you are chasing will determine her for us. If I sight such a vessel on the starboard bow, I will hoist a large red flag at the mizzen-royal-masthead; if on the larboard bow, a white flag at the same place. You will hoist your answering signal and manœuvre to close us; but that shall be as the wind may prove. If you sight your ship, it will suffice if you hoist your ensign at your mizzen topmast head, and an answering signal will tell you that we intend to close with you in chase.",The crew were busy with letting go halliards and brailing in and clewing up, and the Aurora floated forward, slowly swaying her mast-heads with languor and dignity as the heave of the sea took her and rocked her. The ships rose until every hull was visible..