"Say!" Dorothy exclaimed with a little laugh. "Oh, he said a good many things. He spoke most glibly of Mistress Dorothy Devereux; and he told me that if I'd say my name was the same as hers, he'd go away, and not inspect more closely the goings on he had overseen, and which he admitted were not to his liking." "Dot!" And Mary's tone was distinctly reproachful. "Well," almost defiantly, "he did say all that, and more too." "But," asked Mary, "did he not find you out--that you were a girl masquerading in boy's apparel?" "Not he," with another laugh. "And I trust he never will, after the hoydenish manner of speech I thought it best to use in keeping up my character. He took me for a young brother of Mistress Dorothy Devereux, I tell you." "Yes," Mary said musingly, as if to herself, "and I pray no harm may come of it." "Harm!" Dorothy exclaimed, quick in her own justification. "What harm can come of it? I take it as a most lucky thing that I was able to get him out of the way. Had I not done so, then you might have had something to say about harm." "He would have been taken prisoner by our men, had he stayed about here," Mary asserted confidently, "and would have been shot, had he made any disturbance. And that would have been just what he deserved." Her usually gentle voice sounded unnaturally hard. "Oh, Mary," her friend cried, regardless of who might be within hearing, "how can you speak so harshly--and he such a handsome young gallant?" "What is it to us, whether he be handsome or ill-favored?" was Mary's sharp retort. "What interest have you in him?" "I should be sorry if he were hurt." And Dorothy's tone was almost tender by comparison with that of her companion. "Shame on you, Dot!" Mary said in a low voice, but quite fiercely. "How can you talk so, and he a hateful Britisher?" But before Dorothy could reply, the sound of a boat's keel grating on the sand turned their thoughts to different matters. "They are in!" exclaimed Dot, exultantly. "And safe!" "Aye--safe so far," Mary murmured. She was still uncomfortable, and suspicious of some danger lurking in the darkness about them. CHAPTER XV The men were gathered around the boat, shutting it away from the two girls; and the moon's light, now grown silvery, was touching the group in a way to make all their movements visible. "Mary," said Dorothy, "do you go to the beach and ask Jack to come here to me. I must tell him somewhat; and then let us go to the house." And Mary, nothing loath, complied at once. A few of the men were rapidly removing the arms and powder, which were well wrapped in oilskins; and two sailors from the "Pearl" were waiting, ready to pull out again the instant the cargo was landed. Another boat, similarly laden, was approaching the beach; and near it, in a dory by himself, was the missing pedler.