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"I don't care a damn about your astonishment, Mr Eagle!" exclaimed Mr Lawrence with haughty severity. "I want you to understand that Miss Lucy Acton is on board this[Pg 239] ship, and I desire that you will regulate your behaviour by thoroughly understanding the facts which I am going to do you the honour to impart.",

Billy took his eyes from the pair of dead ducks, floating shoreward and turned wonderingly to his companion.,

"What is she, do you think?" said Captain Acton.,

It seemed like an evil dream, but Billy knew it was no dream. Scroggie, astride a big bay horse, had passed him while he was on his way to the store with a basket of eggs for his mother, and he had pulled in at the store just as Deacon Ringold had taken the last available space on the customers' bench outside, and Caleb Spencer had come to the door to peer through the twilight in search of the Clearview stage, which was late. Noticing the stranger on horseback Caleb had hurried forward to ask how best he could serve him.

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"I saw Mr Lawrence on several occasions yesterday," exclaimed Captain Acton, "and he did not suggest by a syllable that he was making ready to sail early this morning before the various officials he would have to see were aboard.",

"He went back and got it," said the girl, in answer to Billy's look of amazement. "And, Billy, he flew away in an awful grouch.",

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.,

"Humph! It does beat all what foolish ideas them big guns take. Think of them two comin' all the way from Cleveland here just to shoot ducks. Old man Swanson knows his book, too. He charges them sports awful prices; nine dollars a week each and makes 'em sleep two in a bed at that; and every fall that old ramblin' house of his is chuck kerbang full of shooters."