ded, curiously. Eliphalet grinned.

"Not a great deal," he said. Then he felt called upon to defend himself.
"I didn't see any use in gettin' murdered, when I couldn't do anything."

She left him. He stared after her up the companionway, bit off a generous
piece of tobacco, and ruminated. If to be a genius is to possess an
infinite stock of patience, Mr. Hopper was a genius. There was patience
in his smile. But it was not a pleasant smile to look upon.

Virginia did not see it. She had told her aunt the news, and stood in the
breeze on the hurricane deck looking southward, with her hand shading her
eyes. The 'Barbara Lane' happened to be a boat with a record, and her
name was often in the papers. She had already caught up with and
distanced others which had had half an hour's start of her, and was near
the head of the procession.

Virginia presently became aware that people were gathering around her in
knots, gazing at a boat coming toward them. Others had been met which, on
learning the dread news, turned back. But this one kept her bow steadily
up the current, although she had passed within a biscuit-toss of the
leader of the line of refugees. It was then that Captain Vance's hairy
head appeared above the deck.

"Dang me!" he said, "if here ain't pig-headed Brent, steaming the
'Jewanita' straight to destruction."

"Oh, are you sure it's Captain Brent?" cried Virginia. The Captain looked
around in surprise.

"If that there was Shreve's old Enterprise come to life again, I'd lay
cotton to sawdust that Brent had her. Danged if he wouldn't take her
right into the jaws of the Dutch."

The Captain's words spread, and caused considerable excitement. On board
the Barbara Lane were many gentlemen who had begun to be shamefaced over
their panic, and these went in a body to the Captain and asked him to
communicate with the 'Juanita'. Whereupon a certain number of whistles
were sounded, and the Barbara's bows headed for the other side of the
channel.

As the Juanita drew near, Virginia saw the square figure and clean,
smooth-shaven face of Captain Lige standing in front of his wheel-house
Peace crept back into her soul, and she tingled with joy as the bells
clanged and the bucket-planks churned, and the great New Orleans packet
crept slowly to the Barbara's side.

"You ain't goin' in, Brent?" shouted the Barbara's captain.

"Why not?" responded Mr. Brent. At the sound of his voice Virginia could
have wept.

"The Du