space enough for him
to pass through. Then, with extreme caution, he lifted himself until
he could survey the deck, and peered eagerly into the darkness to see
if any of the men were about. There was no moon, but the stars shone
their brightest; and as the boy's eyes were accustomed to the darkness,
he could see fairly well.

It was easy for him to swing himself up on the deck. Then, crouched in
the deep shadow of the foremast, he looked anxiously about him. Not a
soul was in sight. Not a sound disturbed the still air. The black
line of the wharf rose but a few feet above the bulwarks. Gliding
noiselessly across, he finally got upon the rail, and thence, with an
active spring, upon the wharf. He was free!

The wharf was as deserted and silent as the schooner's deck. Along one
side was piled a line of casks and barrels, behind which he crept with
the quietness of a cat until the tall warehouses were reached; then,
straightening himself up, he moved more rapidly until he came out upon
the street, which opened to right and left, leading away into the
darkness--whither, he knew not.

Taking the right turning, he hastened on, resolved to appeal for
protection to the first respectable-looking person he might meet. By
the dim light of infrequent oil-lamps at the corners, he could make out
that he was in a street of shops, taverns, and warehouses.

Some of the taverns were still open, but all the other buildings were
closed. Very few persons were about, and as these all appeared to be
seafaring folk he carefully avoided them, keeping in the shadow of
porches and alley-ways until they passed. He was in a state of high
excitement--his anxiety to find some safe refuge contending with joy at
his escape from the wreckers' clutches.

He must have gone about a quarter of a mile, when, just as he
approached a tavern that was still in full blast, the door suddenly
opened, and a broad band of light fell upon the pavement, in the midst
of which appeared Evil-Eye, roaring out a drunken song as he beckoned
to others inside to follow him.

For an instant Eric stood rooted to the spot with terror. His limbs
seemed powerless. Then, as quick as a squirrel, he darted into a dark
alley at his right, and, trembling like an aspen leaf, waited for
Evil-Eye to pass. The drunken scoundrel lingered for what seemed an
hour of agony to the terror-stricken boy; but at length, being joined
by his companions, staggered off toward the s