tself, and the long, narrow, shingle-built, one-storied,
hip-roofed dwelling house. At the time of the story the mill had
descended in a direct line of succession to Hiram White, the grandson
of old Ephraim White, who had built it, it was said, in 1701.

Hiram White was only twenty-seven years old, but he was already in
local repute as a "character." As a boy he was thought to be
half-witted or "natural," and, as is the case with such unfortunates
in small country towns where everybody knows everybody, he was made a
common sport and jest for the keener, crueler wits of the
neighborhood. Now that he was grown to the ripeness of manhood he was
still looked upon as being--to use a quaint expression--"slack," or
"not jest right." He was heavy, awkward, ungainly and loose-jointed,
and enormously, prodigiously strong. He had a lumpish, thick-featured
face, with lips heavy and loosely hanging, that gave him an air of
stupidity, half droll, half pathetic. His little eyes were set far
apart and flat with his face, his eyebrows were nearly white and his
hair was of a sandy, colorless kind. He was singularly taciturn,
lisping thickly when he did talk, and stuttering and hesitating in his
speech, as though his words moved faster than his mind could follow.
It was the custom for local wags to urge, or badger, or tempt him to
talk, for the sake of the ready laugh that always followed the few
thick, stammering words and the stupid drooping of the jaw at the end
of each short speech. Perhaps Squire Hall was the only one in Lewes
Hundred who mis-doubted that Hiram was half-witted. He had had
dealings with him and was wont to say that whoever bought Hiram White
for a fool made a fool's bargain. Certainly, whether he had common
wits or no, Hiram had managed his mill to pretty good purpose and was
fairly well off in the world as prosperity went in southern Delaware
and in those days. No doubt, had it come to the pinch, he might have
bought some of his tormentors out three times over.

Hiram White had suffered quite a financial loss some six months
before, through that very Blueskin who was now lurking in Indian River
inlet. He had entered into a "venture" with Josiah Shippin, a
Philadelphia merchant, to the tune of seven hundred pounds sterling.
The money had been invested in a cargo of flour and corn meal which
had been shipped to Jamaica by the bark _Nancy Lee_. The _Nancy
Lee_ had been captured by the pirates off Currituck Sound, the c