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Mr John Eagle made no answer. Billy was anything but easy in his mind during these exciting days. Who were the two strangers who had searched old Harry's hut? Were they the same two he and Maurice had seen in the woods on the night of the storm? If so, why did they send a message to Hinter, and what was its significance? Where was Gibson's Grove, anyway? These questions bothered him, and pondering upon them robbed him of appetite and sleep. Maurice and Elgin were no help to him in a dilemma of this kind and the new boy, Jim Scroggie, he knew scarcely well enough to trust. "Sir, I once said to a sailor who had obtained a berth ashore on sixteen shillings[Pg 148] a week, 'How do you manage to rear your family? How many are there of you?' 'Why,' he answered, 'there's me and the old woman and four youngsters and grandfather!' 'You never see meat, of course,' said I. 'Oh yes, we do,' he answered. 'Meat!' I cried, 'on sixteen shillings a week and seven people to support, four of them hungry youngsters!' 'Well,' he answered, 'I doos it in this way. On Saturday I goes to the butcher and buys a shoulder o' mutton; on Sunday we 'as it 'ot; on Monday we 'as it cold; on Toosday we 'ave what's left of the cold; on Wednesday what's left of the cold we 'ave made into ishee-ashee; on Thursday we makes what's left of the ishee-ashee into ashee-ishee; on Friday we does without; and on Saturday I goes to the butcher and I buys another shoulder of mutton.' Now," the Admiral would say with his face warm with triumph, "name me any joint but a shoulder of mutton that will supply what kept this family in meat, or the like of meat, from Sunday to Thursday?".

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"Can I trust your Royal Highness with a secret?... How good you are, sir! Your Royal Highness shall see my treasure, but you are too great as a Prince, and too virtuous as a man, to betray me." "It was in 1802; a Naval dinner was given at Bath—St Vincent was First Lord, I need not tell you—his health was proposed and refused to be drunk by many of the company. The party broke up in confusion; some toasted him in a bumper and left the room; others turned down their glasses and sat still. And you would rank this old gentleman next after Nelson?" Caleb had come to Scotia Settlement when it was little more than a bald spot on the pate of the hardwoods. Gypsy-like he had strayed into the settlement and, to use his own vernacular, had pitched his wigwam to stay. One month later a snug log cabin stood on the wooded hillside overlooking the valley, and the sound of Caleb's axe could be heard all day long, as he cleared a garden spot in the forest. That forest ran almost to the white sands of Lake Erie, pausing a quarter of a mile from its shore as though fearing to advance further. On this narrow strip of land the pines and cedars had taken their stand, as if in defiance of the more rugged trees of the upland. They grew close together in thickets so dense that beneath them, even on the brightest day, blue-white twilight rested always. Running westward, these coniferous trees grew bolder and widened so as to almost cover the broad finger-like point of land which separated Rond Eau Bay from Lake Erie, and thither many of the wild things crept, as civilization advanced to claim their old roaming grounds. The point, known as Point Aux Pines, was ten miles long, affording abundance of food and perfect shelter. "Is it?" The woman started on again, then halted abruptly. "Well, it's queer how much his voice is like Willium's crow. Can't you hear him mutterin' and croakin'?".