"Well, my lady, that did me good. Haven't had such a thorough housecleaning of my mean thoughts in quite a spell. Feel all ready for a fresh voyage under the new captain. You rest run along and find that long sufferin' mother of yours and tell her the coast's clear of that pirate craft. We've all shipped men-o'-war, now, and run up the old flag of truth and love. That was the banner your father floated from his masthead, and the colors that'll never dip to lying or cheating. Wait. I'll pack this baby Luis to his bed. Poor little castaway, that your good father picked up in the canyon and fetched home in his arms, to share the best with his own. Well, needn't tell me that the family of a man as good as he was'll ever come to want. Heave ahead, captain. Show me the track to sail." Jessica stopped to bid the other ranchmen good-night, then led the sailor to the little bedroom which the lads shared in common, and where Ned was already asleep, tucked in his white cot by his mother, who let no personal grief interfere with her care for others. "Good-night, dear Samson. I must find that paper. You must help me. My mother must not, shall not, lose her home." "Never. Good-night, captain. You've a good crew on deck and we'll make happy haven yet." That was Jessica Trent's first wakeful night. Though she tried to lie quietly in her own little bed, lest she should disturb her mother whose room she shared, she fancied all sorts of strange sounds, both in-doors and out; and whenever she dropped into a doze, dreamed of the missing paper and of searching for it. One dream was so vivid that she woke, exclaiming: "Oh, mother! I've found it. The black tin box under the three sharp rocks!" But her eyes opened upon vacancy, and there was no response from the larger bed where her anxious parent had, at last, fallen asleep. Yet the vision remained, painted upon the darkness, as it were, a sun-lighted glowing spot, with three pyramidal rocks and a clump of scraggly live oaks. A spot she had never seen, indeed, but felt that she should instantly recognize, should she come upon it anywhere. Then she curled back upon her pillows and again shut her eyes. Could it be possible that she, a healthy little girl, was growing fidgety, like Aunt Sally Benton, who sometimes came to visit her son and help with the sewing? For she surely was hearing things. Movements, hushed footfalls, softly closing doors, creaking floors, at an hour when all the household should be at rest. "How silly! It may be somebody is ill! Wun Lung's hand may hurt him, though it seemed so nearly well, and nobody else would have minded it. That stranger! Yes, I fancy it's he. He may need something that I can get him, and I'll go inquire."