his son.

"We had no miserable hussy on board, Martha," he replied. "That's the
Gospel truth, so if ye don't believe it, ye needn't."

"I'm afraid you're lying, Sam'l. If you didn't have a woman on board,
where, then, did this comb come from?"

"Blamed if I know. How d'ye expect me to keep track of sich gear?"

Mrs. Tobin gave a sigh of despair as she turned to her son.

"Is your father telling the truth, Eben?" she asked.

"Yes, ma."

"And you had no bad, miserable hussy on board this boat?"

"No, ma, we didn't."

"And you haven't been doing anything wrong, anything that you're
ashamed of?"

Eben's face suddenly coloured, and his eyes dropped. He remembered
what he had done at the quarry. Mrs. Tobin was now convinced that she
was being deceived, and that her husband and son were in league against
her. She wheeled upon the captain.

"I want you to come right home with me, Sam'l. This is a very serious
matter, and I need Flo's advice. She's got a level head, and will know
what had better be done. I can hardly think, I'm so worked up."

"But you kin talk all right, Martha, even if ye can't think," the
captain retorted. "If ye'd think more ye'd talk less. If ye don't
believe what me an' Eben have said, ye needn't. Yes, I'll go home with
ye, fer I guess Flo'll understand, if you don't. Eben, you look after
things here. Ye might as well keep the sail up as thar's no wind. If
it comes on to blow, ye can lower it. I'll be on hand bright an' early
in the mornin' so's to catch the tide. We kin drift, even if thar's no
wind. Come on, Martha, let's go."

CHAPTER X

UNWELCOME VISITORS

After he had eaten his supper, Eben washed his few dishes and went out
on deck. He sat down upon one of the blocks of granite and looked out
over the water. It was a beautiful evening, with not a breath of wind
astir. The river shimmered like a great mirror, its surface only
ruffled when an occasional motor-boat hurried by, and the little
steamer "Oconee," on her regular evening trip from the city, ploughed
past and blew for a wharf a short distance beyond. A noble river is
the St. John, enwrapped with the halo of romance and deeds of daring.
In days long ago it bore upon its bosom the light canoes of Indians as
they journeyed to and fro for trading or warlike purposes. It felt the
surge of larger vessels, both of England and France, during the
stirring days when those two nations contended for the supr