y alight to lock the door of the
great vault, and then stood in the stone passage, thinking how quiet and
still the house seemed.

He went out, closing the door after him, and stood in the garden.

"Wonder whether Miss Celia heard us," he said; "never thought of it
before; they must have tied up old Grip."

He glanced up at the windows as he went out, then they seemed to
disappear in the mist as he made for the track and went downwards, to
hear low voices, and directly after he encountered his father.

"Got 'em all right, boy?"

"Yes, father," said Ram, handing the key. "Lugger gone?"

"Hour and a half ago, lad; just got her empty as the tide turned. Best
run we've had."

He burst into a low fit of chuckling.

"What are you laughing at, father?"

"I was thinking how artful revenue cutters are, boy. I don't believe
that _White Hawk's_ more than half a mile away."

"But then see what a fog it was, father?"

"Tchah! To me it's just the same as a moonshiny night, boy. There,
come on home and get to bed. Must be up early; lots to do to-day."

Seeing that it could not be long before morning, Ram asked himself what
was the use of his going to bed; but he said nothing, only hurried to
keep pace with his father; and soon after, feeling fagged out, he was
fast asleep, and dreaming that whenever he piled the kegs up they kept
on rolling down about him, and that the midshipman from the _White Hawk_
stood looking on, and laughing at him for being clumsy, and then he
awoke fancying he was called.

It was quite right, for Farmer Shackle was shouting--

"Now you, Ramillies, are you going to sleep there all day?"

CHAPTER SIX.

Ram had thrown himself down, dressed as he was, so that an interview
with a bucket of water at the back door, and a good rub with the jack
towel, were sufficient to brighten him up for the breakfast waiting, and
the boy was not long before he was partaking heartily of the bowl of
bread and milk his mother placed before him, his father muttering and
grumbling the while to himself.

"I'm sure you needn't be so cross this morning, master," said Mrs
Shackle reproachfully.

"If you had as much to fret you as I do, wife, you'd be cross."

"Why, you told me this morning that you carried your crop of sea hay
without a drop of water on it."

Farmer Shackle shut one eye, tightened up his mouth, and looked with his
other eye at his wife, which was his idea of laughing.

"Well, then," she