in the world will
do your bidding, though you may think so. You can defy the old one and
talk over the young one to go your way, but there's one man will not
sail on any ship of yours and that's Ben Barton. I'll starve ashore
first."

Cicely's quick ear caught his words as she and her father passed by on
the other side of the snow-muffled street. It did not seem that Reuben
Hallowell had heard.

One day passed, two, three, four days, and Cicely's one thought was
that the _Huntress_ was to sail in seven. Workmen were swarming all
over her like bees, hammering, calking, and painting, yet it was plain
that they could not do in a week what needed a month to finish. Alan
was at the wharf all day, holding frequent conferences with his
cousin. Reuben Hallowell went to and fro among the townspeople, urging
them to say that the ship in which they were part owners must abide at
home. But either because they were less sure of peace than he, or
because their eyes were blinded by past good fortune and hopes of
future gain, they would not listen. Between father and son no words
were passed, since each was waiting for the other's stubborn pride to
give way.

On the fifth day Cicely had gone out to ride, on a clear, snowy
afternoon, with the white world shining before her and with the
highway iron-hard under the horses' feet. She missed Alan sorely, for
this was their favorite road, up the valley to the west of the town,
as far as the round bare hill with the single oak tree that they liked
to call theirs. The servant with her had dropped behind, and she was
just turning her horse into the bypath leading to the hill when she
saw a sturdy figure coming down the slope. The brown face, tattooed
hands, and the small bundle of possessions done up in a blue
handkerchief could only be a sailor's, a sailor who proved to be Ben
Barton.

"I'm going to the next seaport to find another berth, since I've
refused to sail on the _Huntress_," he explained in answer to her
questions. "Mr. Martin has had to get a new skipper and a new crew,
for none of the old hands would sail when they heard it was against
your father's wishes. There was a bark came in from Delaware to be
laid up for repairs, with mostly Swedes aboard, and they have manned
the _Huntress_ from her. The ship is to sail on Friday at midnight,
with the turning tide, but she goes without Ben Barton."

He dropped his voice and came nearer.

"I will tell you this--though I should not