at was known definitely about old Burr on the ferry, it appeared,
was that he had joined the vessel in the early spring. Before
that--they did not know; he might be an old lakeman who, after spending
years ashore, had returned to the lakes for a livelihood. He had
represented himself as experienced and trained upon the lakes, and he
had been able to demonstrate his fitness; in spite of his age he was
one of the most capable of the crew.

The next morning, Alan approached old Burr in the crew's quarters and
tried to draw him into conversation again about himself; but Burr only
stared at him with his intent and oddly introspective eyes and would
not talk upon this subject. A week passed; Alan, established as a
lookout now on No. 25 and carrying on his duties, saw Burr daily and
almost every hour; his watch coincided with Burr's watch at the
wheel--they went on duty and were relieved together. Yet better
acquaintance did not make the old man more communicative; a score of
times Alan attempted to get him to tell more about himself, but he
evaded Alan's questions and, if Alan persisted, he avoided him. Then,
on an evening bitter cold with the coming of winter, clear and filled
with stars, Alan, just relieved from watch, stood by the pilothouse as
Burr also was relieved. The old man paused beside him, looking to the
west.

"Have you ever been in Sturgeon's Bay?" he asked.

"In Wisconsin? No."

"There is a small house there--and a child; born," he seemed figuring
the date, "Feb. 12, 1914."

"A relative of yours?"

"Yes."

"One of your brothers' children or grandchildren?"

"I had no brothers," old Burr said quietly.

Alan stared at him, amazed. "But you told me about your brothers and
about their being lost in wrecks on the lake; and about your home in
Emmet County!"

"I never lived in Emmet County," old Burr replied. "Some one else must
have told you that about me. I come from Canada--of French-Canadian
descent. My family were of the Hudson Bay people. I was a guide and
hunter until recently. Only a few years ago I came onto the lakes, but
my cousin came here before I did. It is his child."

Old Burr moved away and Alan turned to the mate.

"What do you make of old Burr?" he asked.

"He's a romancer. We get 'em that way once in a while--old liars!
He'll give you twenty different accounts of himself--twenty different
lives. None of them is true. I don't know who he is or where he came
from, b