understanding of what was being said.

"Not the spot, Manuel? Of course it is; do you not suppose I know? The
cursed fog made me run in close ashore to where I could see the sloop,
so as not to mistake. This is the place, and now there is nothing to
do but wait. The Senor--he will be here presently."

"Ay, unless you misread the signal," a somewhat more discreet, but
piping voice replied doubtfully. "I saw nothing of all you tell
about."

"Because you knew no meaning, nor read the instructions," a touch of
anger in the tone. "I tell you it was all written out in that letter
brought to me from England on the _Wasp_. They were his last orders,
and it was because of them that we anchored off the point yonder, and
explored this coast. You saw the Senor touch the handkerchief to his
cheek?"

"As he went forward alone--yes, surely."

"It was that motion which bade us come here, Manuel. Once for each
cursed plantation along this west coast from the point. He touched the
cloth to his cheek but the once, and this is the first. I watched for
the sign with care for he is not one with whom to make a mistake."

"Dios de Dios! Do I not know, Estada? Have I not a scar here which
tells?"

"True, enough; and have I not received also my lesson--eight hours
staked face upward in the sun. So 'tis my very life wagered on this
being the place named. Besides 'tis proven by the sloop lying there
by the wharf."

"Where then is the Captain?" perversely unsatisfied.

"At the house yonder on the hill--where else? He knew how it would be,
for this is not his first visit to the Bay. 'Twas because of his
knowledge he could plan in England. Tis the custom of these planters
to stop by night along the way, and go ashore; not to camp, but as
guests of some friend. Only beforehand it was not possible for him to
know which plantation would be the one chosen. That was what he must
signal. You see it now?"

"Clearly, Estada; he is the same wary fox as of old."

"Never do they catch him napping," proudly. "Santa Maria! have I not
seen it tried often in ten years?"

"About his plan here? He wrote you his purpose?"

"Not so much as a word; merely the order what to do. Dios! he tells
nothing, for he trusts no man. A good thing that. Yet I have my own
thought, Manuel."

"And what is that?"

The other hesitated, as though endeavoring to rearrange the idea in
his own mind, and possibly doubtful of how much to confide to his
companion. When he f