grimace and one gleaming eye
opened and closed in an understanding wink.
"Ho, ho, ho!--of course you're not expected. Anyway, you're not
expected to be expected! Cautious--a born general--mighty clever thing
to do. Strang should appreciate it." The old man gave vent to his own
approbation in a series of inimitable chuckles. "Is that your sloop out
there?" he inquired interestedly.
Something in the strangeness of the situation began to interest Captain
Plum. He had planned a little adventure of his own, but here was one
that promised to develop into something more exciting. He nodded his
head.
"That's her."
"Splendid cargo," went on the old man. "Splendid cargo, eh?"
"Pretty fair."
"Powder in good shape, eh?"
"Dry as tinder."
"And balls--lots of balls, and a few guns, eh?"
"Yes, we have a few guns," said Captain Plum. The old man noted the
emphasis, but the darkness that had fast settled about them hid the
added meaning that passed in a curious look over the other's face.
"Odd way to come in, though--very odd!" continued the old man,
gurgling and shaking as if the thought of it occasioned him great
merriment. "Very cautious. Level business head. Want to know that
things are on the square, eh?"
"That's it!" exclaimed Captain Plum, catching at the proffered straw.
Inwardly he was wondering when his feet would touch bottom. Thus
far he had succeeded in getting but a single grip on the situation.
Somebody was expected at Beaver Island with powder and balls and
guns. Well, he had a certain quantity of these materials aboard his sloop,
and if he could make an agreeable bargain--
The old man interrupted the plan that was slowly forming itself in
Captain Plum's puzzled brain.
"It's the price, eh?" He laughed shrewdly. "You want to see the color of
the gold before you land the goods. I'll show it to you. I'll pay you the
whole sum to-night. Then you'll take the stuff where I tell you to. Eh?
Isn't that so?" He darted ahead of Captain Plum with a quick alert
movement. "Will you please follow me, sir?"
For an instant Captain Plum's impulse was to hold back. In that instant
it suddenly occurred to him that he was lending himself to a rank
imposition. At the same time he was filled with a desire to go deeper
into the adventure, and his blood thrilled with the thought of what it
might hold for him.
"Are you coming, sir?"
The little old man had stopped a dozen paces away and turned
expectantly.
"I tell you again that you've got the wrong man, Dad!"
"Will you follow me, sir?"
"Well, if you'll have it so--damned if I won't!" cried Captain Plum. He
felt that he had relieved his conscience, anyway. If things should
develop badly for him during the next few hours no one could say that
he had lied. So he followed light-heartedly after the old man, his eyes
and ears alert, and his right hand, by force of habit, reaching under his
coat to the butt of his pistol. His guide said not another word until they
had traveled for half an hour along a twisting path and stood at last on
the bald summit of a knoll from which they could look down upon a
number of lights twinkling dimly a quarter of a mile away. One of these
lights gleamed above all the others, like a beacon set among fireflies.
"That's St. James," said the old man. His voice had changed. It was low
and soft, as though he feared to speak above a whisper.
"St. James!"
The young man at his side gazed down silently upon the scattered lights,
his heart throbbing in a sudden tumult of excitement. He had set out
that day with the idea of resting his eyes on St. James. In its silent
mystery the town now lay at his feet.
"And that light--" spoke the old man. He pointed a trembling arm
toward the glare that shone more powerfully than the others. "That light
marks the sacred home of the king!" His voice had again changed. A
metallic hardness came into it, his words were vibrant with a strange
excitement which he strove hard to conceal. It was still light enough for
Captain Plum to see that the old man's black, beady eyes were
startlingly alive with newly aroused emotion.
"You mean--"
"Strang!"
He started rapidly down the knoll and there floated back to Captain
Plum the soft notes of his meaningless chuckle. A dozen rods farther on
his mysterious guide turned into a by-path which led them to another
knoll, capped by a good-sized building made of logs. There sounded
the grating of a key in a lock, the shooting of a bolt, and a door opened
to admit
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