eams had alighted on the summit of the Spy-glass, and soon after
I saw something broad and silvery moving low down behind the trees, and
knew the moon had risen.

With this to help me, I passed rapidly over what remained to me of my
journey; and, sometimes walking, sometimes running, impatiently drew
near to the stockade. Yet, as I began to thread the grove that lies
before it, I was not so thoughtless but that I slacked my pace and went
a trifle warily. It would have been a poor end of my adventures to get
shot down by my own party in mistake.

The moon was climbing higher and higher; its light began to fall here
and there in masses through the more open districts of the wood, and
right in front of me a glow of a different color appeared among the
trees. It was red and hot, and now and again it was a little
darkened--as it were the embers of a bonfire smoldering.

For the life of me I could not think what it might be.

At last I came right down upon the borders of the clearing. The western
end was already steeped in moon-shine; the rest, and the blockhouse
itself, still lay in a black shadow, chequered with long, silvery
streaks of light. On the other side of the house an immense fire had
burned itself into clear embers and shed a steady, red reverberation,
contrasting strongly with the mellow paleness of the moon. There was not
a soul stirring, nor a sound beside the noises of the breeze.

I stopped, with much wonder in my heart, and perhaps a little terror
also. It had not been our way to build great fires; we were, indeed, by
the captain's orders, somewhat niggardly of firewood, and I began to
fear that something had gone wrong while I was absent.

I stole round by the eastern end, keeping close in shadow, and at a
convenient place, where the darkness was thickest, crossed the palisade.

To make assurance surer, I got upon my hands and knees, and crawled,
without a sound, toward the corner of the house. As I drew nearer, my
heart was suddenly and greatly lightened. It was not a pleasant noise in
itself, and I have often complained of it at other times, but just then
it was like music to hear my friends snoring together so loud and
peaceful in their sleep. The sea-cry of the watch, that beautiful "All's
well," never fell more reassuringly on my ear.

In the meantime there was no doubt of one thing; they kept an infamous
bad watch. If it had been Silver and his lads that were now creeping in
on them, not a sou