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Miss Lucy Acton sat with her eyes veiled by downcast lids fixed in a stare as lifeless as the dead upon her hands, which lay clasped in her lap. So motionless was she, you would have said she slept. Much of the lovely bloom that always gave to her lineaments a choice sweetness was absent, but not the less[Pg 281] did as much of her face as was visible express its refined and delicate beauty.,

"That's all. Jest Walter Watland.",

Billy looked searchingly at his new friend. "I never told a soul how I did it, 'cept my chum, Maurice Keeler," he said. "But I'll tell you. That same evenin' I was prowlin' through the slashin' lookin' fer white grubs fer bass-bait. I found a big rotten stump, so I pushed it over, an' right down under the roots I found an old weasel an' six half-grown kittens. Afore she could get over her surprise, I had her an' her family in the tin pail I had with me, an' the cover on. By rights I should'a killed the whole caboodle of 'em, I s'pose, 'cause they're mighty hard on the birds; but I had work fer 'em to do.,

"I think I have some reason, Mr Lawrence," answered Mr Greyquill, drooping his head to one side, and looking at the other with a confidential and familiar expression which was scarcely a smile, but which teased the hot blood of Mr Lawrence as though the look masked an insult. Mr Lawrence viewed him in silence.

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Five minutes later he was riding the two-mile strip of sand between the light-house and the pines, the Great Danes close behind. When he reached the timber he reined in to look back over his shoulder at the tall white tower with its ever-sweeping, glowing eye. Then, with a sigh, he rode forward and passed into the darkness of the trees. Half way down the trail he dismounted and, after hitching his horse to a tree and commanding his dogs to stand guard, plunged into the thickly-growing pines on the right of the path.,

Maurice peered out from behind a tree. "Well, I'll be jiggered!" he exclaimed. "It's our old sow. She's been lost fer nigh onto two weeks, an' Dad's been huntin' fer her everywhere.",

The position of the Victory gave plenty of scope for the manœuvrings of the Aurora. Captain Weaver, finding that he would rapidly outsail the liner and be ahead and out of hail before half a dozen sentences could be exchanged, luffed the Aurora to windward of the Victory, wisely declining to be becalmed by the big ship's sails if he stationed his little craft to leeward of her. A lieutenant stood at the forward end of the raised deck, or poop as it really was. One or two midshipmen were visible. The sentry on the forecastle was in sight; otherwise scarce a man was to be seen. The lieutenant hailed as the officer in the Amphion had: "Schooner ahoy! Are you fresh from England?",

Mr. Keeler looked surprised; so did Billy's class-mates; so did all members of all the classes and the teachers. So did Billy himself. The drowsy hum of reciting voices died suddenly and a great stillness succeeded it. It seemed to Billy that he was standing alone on top of a flimsy scaffold, hundreds of feet in the air, waiting for Mr. Keeler, high executioner, to spring the trap-door that would launch him into oblivion.