tion was in connection with the girl.
Apart from her, his old plans and ambitions stood. He felt no
uncertainty and no curiosity concerning the morrow's dealings with the
men. He considered it a commonplace subject. He would act upon Bill
Brennen's advice and visit the mutineers at an early hour; and as to the
wreck?--well, if conditions proved favorable he would break out the
cargo and see what could be made of it.

Mother Nolan entered with an empty cup in her hand.

"She took her draught like a babe, an' bes sleepin' agin peaceful as an
angel," she whispered. "Mind ye makes no noise, Denny. No more o' yer
fightin' an' cursin' this night!"

Black Dennis Nolan put in a night of disturbed dreaming and crawled from
his bed before the first streak of dawn. He pulled on his heavy garments
and seal-hide "skinnywoppers," built up the fire in the stove, brewed
and gulped a mug of tea, and then unbolted the door noiselessly and went
out. The dawn was lifting by now, clear, glass-gray and narrow at the
rim of the sea to the eastward and southward. The air was still. The
lapping of the tide along the icy land-wash and the dull whispering of
it among the seaward rocks were the only sounds. The skipper stood
motionless beside his own door for a few minutes. Small windows blinked
alight here and there; faint, muffled sounds of awakening life came to
him from the cabins; pale streamers of smoke arose into the breathless
air from the little chimneys.

"Now I'll pay me calls on 'em, like good Father McQueen himself,"
murmured the skipper.

He moved across the frosty rock to the nearest door. It was opened to
him by a wide-eyed woman with a ragged shawl thrown over her head.

"Mornin' to ye, Kate. How bes yer man Tim this mornin'?" inquired the
skipper.

He stepped inside without waiting for an answer or an invitation. He
found Tim in the bed beside the stove, snoring heavily. He grabbed his
shoulder and shook it roughly until the fellow closed his mouth and
opened his eyes.

"Tim Leary, ye squid, shut off yer fog-horn an' hark to me!" he
exclaimed. "By sun-up ye goes back to the woods and commences cuttin'
out poles for Father McQueen's church. Ye'll take yer brother Corny an'
Peter Walen along wid ye an' ye'll chop poles all day. Mark that, Tim. I
let ye take a fling yesterday, jist to see what kind o' dogs ye be; but
if ever I catches ye takin' another widout the word from me I'll be
killin' ye!"

The man groaned.

"Ho