ell our lives dearly!" supplemented Jimmy. "He who would seek to
stop us does so at his peril." And Jimmy made so fell a movement
toward his side-arms that I hastened to restrain him.

"Yes," said I; "you are quite right, my hearties."

"But, gee!" ventured the red-haired pirate, "what was you thinkin'
about?"

"You ask me to tell truth, good Sire," I made reply, "and I shall do
no less. At the very moment you trained your bow-chaser on me, I was
thinking of two things."

"Speak on, caitiff!" demanded Jimmy fiercely.

"Nay, call me not so, good Sir," I rejoined, "for such, in good-sooth,
I am not, but honest faithful man. Ye have but now asked what I
pondered, and I fain would speak truth, an' it please ye, my
hearties."

"What's he givin' us, Jimmy?" whispered the pirate captain dubiously,
aside.

"Speak on!" again commanded he of the blue eyes. "But your life blood
dyes the deck if you seek to deceive Jean Lafitte, or Henry
L'Olonnois!"

(So then, thought I, at last I knew their names.)

In reply I reached to my belt and drew out quickly--so quickly that
they both flinched away--the long handled knife which, usually, I
carried with me for cutting down alders or other growth which
sometimes entangled my flies as I fished along the stream. "Listen,"
said I, "I swear the pirates' oath. On the point of my blade," and I
touched it with my right forefinger, "I swear that I pondered on two
things when you surprised me."

"Name them!" demanded Jimmy L'Olonnois fiercely.

"First, then," I answered, "I was wondering what I could use as a cork
to my phial, when once I had yonder Anopheles in it----"

"Who's he?" demanded Jean Lafitte.

"Anopheles? A friend of mine," I replied; "a mosquito, in short."

"Jimmy, he's crazy!" ejaculated Jean Lafitte uneasily.

"Say on, caitiff!" commanded L'Olonnois, ignoring him; "what else?"

"In the second place," said I--and again I placed my right forefinger
on the point of my blade, "I was thinking of Helena."

"Is she your little girl," hesitatingly inquired Jimmy L'Olonnois, for
the instant forgetting his part.

"No," said I sadly, "she is not my little girl."

"Where is she?" vaguely.

"Regarding the whereabouts of either Anopheles or Helena, at this
moment," said I still sadly, "I am indeed all at sea, as any good
pirate should be."

I tried to jest, but fared ill at it. I felt my face flush at hearing
her name spoken aloud. And sadly true was it that, on that a