ck. What 'ave you got to do with law? Well, dodgin'
the Preventive men is 'ginst the law, I know et, but what ov that? You
c'n make a bit ov money that way--a good bit, Jasper. In three year or
so, with me to 'elp 'ee, you cud git 'nough to buy back Pennington,
there now."

"And what do you offer?" I asked.

"I'll take 'ee on, tha's what I'll do. I'll taich 'ee a vew things. I'll
make a man ov 'ee, Jasper. You are a vine big man, sonny, a match for
two ord'nary men, with schullership, an' a knowledge of figgers thrawed
in. You'd zoon be my 'ead man, an' do a big traade."

"If smuggling were all," I stammered.

"Tha's oal I ask ov 'ee, Jasper. A bit ov smugglin'. But spoase you
doan't. Well, look at that now. Spoase you doan't now. Nick Tresidder
'll git that maid es sure as eggs--while you--"

"I shall be murdered, I suppose."

"Jasper, I never like violence on a eldest son. It do main bad luck, my
deear, es a rule; still we've got to go 'ginst bad luck, sometimes. But
for the fact of your bein' the third of the family of the same naame--"

"More than the third," I interrupted.

"More than the third ef you like, my deear, but you be the third, an'
oal the world do knaw it's a bad thing to kill a man who's the third of
the same naame. But for that I mightn't 'ave come in time. You zee,
Jasper, I'm a religious man, do send a present to the passon every year
for tithes, I do."

At that time I did not believe in Cap'n Jack's words, but afterward I
found that all his gang were afraid to do that which was considered
unlucky. All Cornish people, I suppose, have heard the rhyme about
killing an eldest son who is the third in succession to bear the same
christened name. I know, too, that Cap'n Jack believed implicitly in the
legend, and I have heard him repeat it very solemnly, as though he were
repeating a prayer at a funeral, while his gang became as solemn as
judges. And I have little doubt now that the jargon which I will write
down--for I who have had a fair lot of schooling do call it jargon--had
a great deal to do with saving me from Sam Liddicoat's knife.

"For if a man shall strike him dead,
His blood shall be on the striker's head,
And while ever he draws his breath,
His days shall be a fearful death;
And after death to hell he'll go,
With pain and everlasting woe."

"An' so, you zee," said Cap'n Jack, "I do'ant want no violence weth
'ee, being a merciful and religious m