owever, did Marcy stand motionless and
speechless, and then he pointed his weapon in the direction from which
the voice sounded, saying in steady tones:

"If you don't give me an answer that I can understand, I'll cut loose.
Who are you?"

"I am a homeless, friendless smuggler," replied the voice; and at the
same instant a familiar bark, followed by an impatient whine, told the
astonished Marcy that his faithful watchman, Bose, was under the window
with the stranger. The unexpected discovery made every nerve in his body
tingle with excitement, and his next words were uttered in a husky and
indistinct tone.

"Jack!" he exclaimed. "Oh, Jack! Is that you?"

"It's I," answered the visitor, speaking in his natural voice this time.
"I'm here safe and sound, and none the worse for having been a prisoner
in the hands of that pirate, Captain Semmes."

"Go round to the front door and I will be right down," said Marcy, in
suppressed tones. He could not imagine why his brother should make his
presence known in this guarded way instead of boldly demanding
admittance at the door, but he knew that there was some reason for it
and conducted himself accordingly. He moved about his room very quietly
while he dressed himself as well as he could with only one hand to work
with, and then he caught up the lamp, hurried downstairs and made his
way to his mother's room. His low tap met with an instant response.

"Oh, mother," exclaimed Marcy, "Jack's come home, and he's Union."

"Of course he is for the Union," answered Mrs. Gray calmly, although she
was almost as highly excited as Marcy was. "I have never thought of him
as being a rebel."

"The rebels had him prisoner," added Marcy; and with this bit of news to
add to his mother's excitement, the boy ran to the front door. The
moment he opened it a stalwart young fellow sprang upon the threshold
with his arms spread out; but he stopped suddenly when his eyes fell
upon Marcy's white face and upon the sling in which he carried his left
hand.

"What's happened to you?" he demanded, as soon as he could speak.

"I got that while helping Captain Beardsley run a cargo of contraband
goods through Crooked Inlet," replied Marcy, laughing at the expression
of surprise and disgust that came upon the young sailor's bronzed face
as he listened to the words. "First I was a privateer and now I am a
blockade-runner."

"There must be some good reason for it, because I know as well as you do
that