ude. For
some time he had been living with no other companions than an old Indian
woman and her half-caste daughter, and they having left him, during the
last three days he had been living entirely alone "among the ghosts,"
many of which he described minutely.

This intelligence was brought to an abrupt close by a row among the men
in the kitchen. Rollo had been boasting of his walking powers to such
an extent, that Pierre had become disgusted and spoke contemptuously of
Rollo; whereupon the bully, as usual, began to storm, and his wrath
culminated when Pierre asserted that, "Mr Robinson would bring him to
his marrow-bones ere long."

"Jack Robinson!" exclaimed Rollo with contempt; "I'd walk him blind in
two hours."

Just at that moment the door opened, and Jack stood before them.

"You are too noisy, men," said he, in a quiet voice, (Jack almost always
spoke in a soft voice); "remember that this kitchen is within hearing of
the hall. Rollo, go down to the beach and haul up the sloop's boat, I
see the tide is making on her."

Rollo hesitated.

"You hear?" said Jack, still in a quiet tone, but with a look--not a
fierce look, or a threatening look, but--a peculiar look, which
instantly took effect.

One has often observed a cat when about to spring. It makes many pauses
in its prowling towards its prey, and occasional motions that lead one
to expect a spring. But the motion which precedes the actual spring is
always emphatic. It may not be violent; it may be as slight as all the
previous motions, but there is that in it which tells irresistibly,
somehow, of a fixed purpose. So is it, doubtless, with tigers; so was
it with Jack Robinson. His first remark to the men was a prowl; his
order to Rollo was a pause, with an _intention_; his "you hear?" softly
said, had a _something_ in it which induced Rollo to accord instant
obedience!

On returning to the hall, Jack paced up and down indignantly. "So there
are _two_ bullies in the camp," he soliloquised; "I must cure them
both;--but softly, Jack. It won't do to fight if you can secure peace
by other means. Let blows be the last resource. That's my motto.
He'll walk me blind! Well, we shall see, _to-morrow_!"

CHAPTER FOUR.

TAMING A BULLY.

The morrow came, and Jack Robinson rose with the sun. Long before his
men were astir he had inspected the few books and papers of the
establishment, had examined the condition of the fur and goods store,
and