Davie explained, and Dirk glowered at me darkly and said, "So that's it, eh? Told you we were smugglers, eh?" "No," I cried, "no. Yarns; that's all. I told you...." But his great hand came slapping over my mouth, and I felt my shoulder severely wrenched. I had nearly betrayed our earlier meeting. "Ah," Dirk took me up sarcastically, "he tells yarns, does he? One of these poetical chaps, I reckon. Heard of poetical license, come to think of it. Seems like a case of it. Wull," he ended unexpectedly, "we _are_ smugglers. Now how d'you like it?" "Really?" I cried with such genuine admiration that there was a general guffaw, and all at once the strained atmosphere was wonderfully relieved. "Yus, really," said Dirk. "Have a good look at us. Handsome lot, aren't we? An' if you ever write one o' them yarns like what your dad does, wull, put us all in, an' we'll take it kindly of you; and hang us all at the end for warnings like, same as they done to Jem an' Roger last year. Poor devils!" The grins changed to oaths at the mention of Jem and Roger, and Dirk's face became hard. But just then my father was heard running down the stairs singing gaily to himself, and every form froze in rigid expectation. He was singing a song I delighted in, but I was appalled to hear it now: "Dance to your daddy, My little laddy, Dance to your daddy, My little man...." He had got so far when he swung open the door, and stopped short with well-feigned surprise to see the kitchen crowded with silent men, all with eyes fixed intently upon him. His hands were in his pockets, and I knew how those eyes were waiting for them to be withdrawn. "Company! Splendid!" cried my father, and called for the mugs to be filled; and then catching sight of me still struggling against my tears, "Why, what's this, Tommy?" he said, and laid his hands upon my shoulders, holding me out at arm's length. "Nothing, daddy, nothing," I answered, smiling back as well as I might. But I knew that both his thought and mine was that his hands were free to the view of all. For a half moment the silence seemed to freeze in the air; then there was a low muttering, and voices broke out again. They had looked their fill, and had seen nothing. My father gave me a little push to hint to me my course, and I slipped from the room, while the business of drinking was resumed; and before I left the inn I heard bursts of laughter, and my father's voice raised above the rest. I understood well enough that he had made all easy there, and was regaling the company with his racy chaff. I made for Ebb-Tide Pool, intending to hide before the smugglers should be back there. I meant to learn the secret of the gate this day. * * * * *