ell, if he may never see her more. Truly, a
letter over which a pirate, even a Malay pirate, Colorado of my heart,
might shed tears."

The Skipper's voice was still quiet, but its deep tones were stern with
suppressed feeling; with menace, was it? The child, bewildered, looked
from one to the other of his two companions. The Spaniard's eyes burned
red in their depths, his glance seemed to pierce marrow and sinew; he
sat leaning lightly forward in his chair, alert, possessing himself,
ready for any sudden movement on the part of his adversary; for the old
man must be his adversary; something deadly must lie between these two.
Mr. Scraper lay back in his chair like one half dead, yet the rage and
spite and hatred, the baffled wonder, the incredulity struggling with
what was being forced upon him, made lively play in his sunken face. His
lean hands clutched the arms of the chair as if they would rend the
wood; his frame shook with a palsy. Little John wondered what could ail
his guardian; yet his own heart was stirred to its depths by what he had
heard.

"The son was bad!" he cried. "He was a bad man! Things must have sat
upon his breast _all_ night, and I am sure he could not sleep at all.
Are you sorry for a person who is as bad as that? do you think any one
tried to help him to be better?"

But the Skipper raised his finger, and pointed to the evil face of the
old man.

"Does that man look as if he slept, my son?" he asked.

"Listen always, and you shall hear the last of the story."

"It's a lie!" Mr. Scraper screamed at last, recovering the power of
speech.

"It's a lie that you've cooked up from what you have heard from the
neighbours. May their tongues rot out! And if it were true as the sun,
what is it to you? She's dead, I tell you! She's been dead these twenty
years! I had the papers telling of her death; I've got 'em now, you
fool."

"Quiet then, my uncle!" said the Skipper, bending forward, and laying
his hand on the old man's knee.

"She is dead, she died in these arms. I am her son, do you see?"

But if Mr. Scraper saw, it was only for a moment, for he gave a scream,
and fell together sideways in his chair, struck with a fit.

CHAPTER X.

IN THE VALLEY OF DECISION.

"And now, Colorado, son of my heart," the Skipper said, "you understand
why I was a thief that yesterday, and why I could not permit you at that
instant to tell of my thieving?"

They had put the old man to bed, and Mr. B