and in his large firm grasp.

Just then one of the customers at the far side rose suddenly and made for
the door. It was close by him, and he was out in the street in a moment.
But his hurry had attracted my notice, and I recognised him at a glance.
It was the tallow-faced man, wanting two fingers, who had come first to
the "Admiral Benbow."

"Oh," I cried, "stop him! it's Black Dog!"

"I don't care two coppers who he is," cried Silver. "But he hasn't paid
his score.--Harry, run and catch him."

One of the others who was nearest the door leaped up, and started in
pursuit.

"If he were Admiral Hawke he shall pay his score," cried Silver; and
then, relinquishing my hand--"Who did you say he was?" he asked. "Black
what?"

"Dog, sir," said I. "Has Mr. Trelawney not told you of the buccaneers? He
was one of them."

"So?" cried Silver. "In my house!--Ben, run and help Harry. One of those
swabs, was he? Was that you drinking with him, Morgan? Step up here."

The man whom he called Morgan--an old, grey-haired, mahogany-faced
sailor--came forward pretty sheepishly, rolling his quid.

"Now, Morgan," said Long John, very sternly; "you never clapped your eyes
on that Black--Black Dog before, did you, now?"

"Not I, sir," said Morgan, with a salute.

"You didn't know his name, did you?"

"No, sir."

"By the powers, Tom Morgan, it's as good for you!" exclaimed the
landlord. "If you had been mixed up with the like of that, you would
never have put another foot in my house, you may lay to that. And what
was he saying to you?"

"I don't rightly know, sir," answered Morgan.

"Do you call that a head on your shoulders, or a blessed dead-eye?" cried
Long John. "Don't rightly know, don't you! Perhaps you don't happen to
rightly know who you was speaking to, perhaps? Come now, what was he
jawing--v'yages, cap'ns, ships? Pipe up! What was it?"

"We was a-talkin' of keel-hauling," answered Morgan.

"Keel-hauling, was you? and a mighty suitable thing, too, and you may lay
to that. Get back to your place for a lubber, Tom."

And then, as Morgan rolled back to his seat, Silver added to me in a
confidential whisper, that was very flattering, as I thought:--

"He's quite an honest man, Tom Morgan, on'y stupid. And now," he ran on
again, aloud, "let's see--Black Dog? No, I don't know the name, not I.
Yet I kind of think I've--yes, I've seen the swab. He used to come here
with a blind beggar, he used."

"That he did, you may