board the
_Talisman_, which weighed anchor, and sailed, with a light breeze,
towards the north end of the island--guided through the dangerous reefs
by Gascoyne. Henry and his followers were toiling nimbly up the hills
in the direction indicated by the little footprints of Alice; and John
Bumpus, proceeding into the mountains in another direction, pushed,
under the guidance of Corrie, towards the bay where the _Foam_ still lay
quietly at anchor.

It was evening when these different parties set out on their various
expeditions. The sun was descending to the horizon in a blaze of lurid
light. The slight breeze, which wafted his Britannic Majesty's ship
slowly along the verdant shore, was scarcely strong enough to ruffle the
surface of the sea. Huge banks of dark clouds were gathering in the
sky, and a hot unnatural closeness seemed to pervade the atmosphere, as
if a storm were about to burst upon the scene. Everything, above and
below, seemed to presage war--alike elemental and human--and the various
leaders of the several expeditions felt that the approaching night would
tax their powers and resources to the uttermost.

It was, then, natural that in such circumstances the bereaved father
should be distracted with anxiety as to which party he should join, and
it was also natural that one whose life had been so long devoted to the
special service of his God should, before deciding on the point, ask, on
his knees, his heavenly Father's guidance.

He finally resolved to accompany the party under command of Henry
Stuart.

CHAPTER TEN.

THE PURSUIT--POOPY, LED ON BY LOVE AND HATE, RUSHES TO THE RESCUE.

The shades of night had begun to descend upon the island when Master
Corrie reached the summit of the mountain ridge that divided the bay in
which the _Foam_ was anchored from the settlement of Sandy Cove.

Close on his heels followed the indomitable Jo Bumpus, who panted
vehemently and perspired profusely from his unwonted exertions.

"Wot an object you are," exclaimed Corrie, gazing at the hot giant with
a look of mingled surprise and glee--for the boy's spirit was of that
nature which cannot repress a dash of fun even in the midst of anxiety
and sorrow. We would not have it understood that the boy ever
deliberately mingled the two things--joy and sorrow--at one and the same
time, but he was so irresistibly alive to the ludicrous, that a touch of
it was sufficient at any time to cause him to forget, for a