" replied Mr. Beardsley, with a grin
which was intended to mean that he was altogether too sharp to be caught
in that way. "We won't chase steamers, kase we know we can't catch 'em;
and 'taint no ways likely that we'll go to sleep and let one of 'em get
between us and the coast."

"Did you have to buy the guns you intend to put on the schooner?" asked
Marcy, when the visitor paused and looked at him as if waiting for him
to say something.

"No. They came from one of the forts taken by the State troops awhile
ago. I borrowed 'em on condition that I give 'em back when they are
wanted. They're too light for coast defense, but just the thing for our
business. Well, what do you say?"

"You have not yet asked my consent," Mrs. Gray reminded him.

"I didn't think I'd have to," answered Mr. Beardsley. "I reckoned you
were like all the other women folks--ready and willing to do anything
for the cause."

"But if Marcy should be killed--"

"Aw! He aint going to be killed," exclaimed the visitor rudely. "Don't I
tell you that we'll run the minute we sight a war-vessel."

"But you might run aground and they might capture you," answered Mrs.
Gray, who knew as well as anybody how dangerous the coast was, even to
those who were acquainted with it. "And if Marcy should be sent to
prison, as he would if he were taken on board an armed schooner, what
would become of me? My oldest boy is at sea, and it is my desire to keep
Marcy with me as much as I can."

"He can run up and see you when we come into port, which will be as
often as we take a prize, or see signs of a blow in the clouds outside,"
said Mr. Beardsley, putting on his hat, and getting upon his feet. "Come
down and see the schooner, Marcy. Stop at my house, and I'll show you
right where she is."

"How soon do you start?"

"Some time this week, I hope. The sooner we get outside the better our
chances will be. That's why I say, make hay while the sun shines. Two or
three hauls will make us so rich that we needn't do no more work the
longest day we live."

"And will you feel no sorrow for those who lose their property, and
perhaps their all, through your efforts to enrich yourself?" asked Mrs.
Gray.

"That's why I say that one man's pizen is another man's meat," replied
Beardsley. "Not a mite of sorrow will I feel for them Yankees. Let them
come under our flag if they want protection. When will you be along,
Marcy?"

"To-morrow about this time," answered the boy.