hape a single terrible word--"Pirates!"

The buccaneers were much talked of in those days, and though the New
England ports were less troubled, because better guarded, than those
farther south, there had been many sea-rovers hanged in Boston within
Jeremy's memory.

As if to clinch the argument a dozen of the ruffians swung their
cannikins of rum in the air and began to shout a song at the top of
their lungs. All the words that reached Jeremy were oaths except one
phrase at the end of the refrain, repeated so often that he began to
make out the sense of it. "Walk the bloody beggars all below!" it seemed
to be--or "overboard"--he could not tell which. Either seemed bad enough
to the boy just then and he turned to crawl homeward, with a sick
feeling at the pit of his stomach.

His way led straight back across the ridge to the spring and thence down
to the shelter on the north shore. He made the best speed he was able
through the woods until he reached the height of land near the middle of
the island. He had crashed along caring only to reach the sheep-pen and
home, but as he stood for a moment to get his breath and his bearings,
the westerly breeze brought him a sound of voices on the ridge close by.
He prayed fervently that the wind which had warned him had served also
to carry away the sound of his progress. Cowering against a tree, he
stood perfectly still while the voices--there seemed to be two--came
nearer and nearer. One was a very deep, rough bass that laughed hoarsely
between speeches. The other voice was of a totally different sort, with
a cool, even tone, and a rather precise way of clipping the words.

"See here, David," Jeremy understood the latter to say, "It's for you to
remember those bearings, not me. You're the sailor here. Give them again
now!"

"Huh!" grunted Big Voice, "two hunder' an' ten north to a sharp rock;
three-score an' five northeast by east to an oak tree in a gully; two
an' thirty north to a fir tree blazed on the south; five north _an'_
there you are!" He ended in a chuckle as if pleased by the accuracy of
his figures.

"Ay, well enough," the other responded, "but it must be wrong, for
here's the blazed tree and no spring by it."

Close below, Jeremy saw their lantern flash and a moment later the two
men were in full view striding among the trees. As he had almost
expected from their voices, one was a tremendous, bearded fellow in
sea-boots and jerkin and with a villainous turban o