the ground. He then backed away. Chris picked up and examined the
glass, tested it, and then just as the two gamblers came back up the
riverbank, tossed the silver piece to the beggar. Gosler caught it in
mid-air with the dexterity of years of practice. In an instant Chris
had vanished into the thick shade of the wood, and going as fast but
as quietly as he could, regained the place where Amos waited for him.

[Illustration]

"Gee, Chris!" Amos exclaimed, for he had caught all Chris's expression
of speech, "We got us a spyglass!"

"We sure have!" Chris agreed, "And it's a fine one--best I ever saw,"
he said. "Here, try it out over the river there, where that ship is
anchored."

Amos pointed the glass through the shrubs toward a distant ship that
swung at anchor close to the shore, and while he tried out their
prize, Chris watched the departure of the three gamblers. Gosler had
evidently paid up while Chris was returning to their hidden perch, for
he was now hustled into the boat by the other two. Soon the three were
far down the stream and their boat was moving into the main flow of
the river.

"Here," Amos said passing back the glass, "you look. That's a mighty
fine ship out there, black as the _Mirabelle_ is white, but she looks
fast and strong just the same."

But Chris, taking the glass, was idly following the progress of the
three men. Gosler, lost in gloom, sat in the stern hugging his rags
about him. The other two bent their backs to the oars and headed
straight for the anchored ship.

Turning the glass to the brig Chris hunted for the name as the prow
swung about. Through the glass the letters, gold on the black-painted
side, leapt at his eye across the distance. _Venture_, Chris read, and
with a beating heart he saw his adversary's ship for the first time.

CHAPTER 16

"Come along, Amos! We must get a closer look at that ship!" Chris
cried, putting his glass away. Scrambling down, the two boys ran along
the stream until it was shallow enough to cross. The water was icy,
telling, as well as the turning leaves and cooler air, that fall had
come and winter was on the way.

Hurrying forward, Chris and Amos reached the mouth of the stream where
it joined the river. There on the left bank of Rock Creek, high rushes
grew in rank profusion on the marshy land. They rose higher than the
heads of the two boys and were too closely packed to allow for easy
passage.

"We'll have to skirt the very edge