Nuggy Polk had learned enough to convince him that Gilbert was either the son of Jefferson Pennington or closely related to the dead man; and the news disturbed him a good deal. “For all I know, he may have been spying on me in Manila,” he said to Nickerson. “I don’t see how he can possibly hurt you,” was the reply. “Perhaps he knows little or nothing of the past.” “Then what was his object in introducing himself as Lieutenant Gilbert? I half believe he followed us from Manila. The clerk at the hotel said something about his being there earlier in the day, although I didn’t pay any attention to it at the time.” “As an officer in the army, he has got to attend to his official duties. If I were you, I’d leave him severely alone; and I believe the whole thing will drop then and there. Even if he is Jefferson Pennington’s son, he can’t rake up that old claim, can he?” “I don’t know but that he can. Your father was the lawyer who passed on the papers in the case, and you have had all his records since he died. You ought to know more about it than I do.” At this, Jerry Nickerson’s face took on a cunning look. “I do know a good deal, and don’t deny it. But I reckon your father is safe--if he keeps his mouth shut.” “This Pennington may combine with Amos Bartlett. I was foolish enough to name Bartlett to him.” “Yes, that was a bad move, Nuggy. After this you must be as mum as an oyster.” Nuggy Polk agreed to this, yet he felt very much as if he was locking the stable door after the horse was stolen. It is said that “a guilty conscience is its own accuser,” and it was largely so in the present instance. On the third day out, the island of Formosa was sighted far in the west; and the course was now north-north-east, past numerous small islands and rocks, straight for Nagasaki, which lies, as many of my young readers must know, close to the entrance to the Yellow Sea. The weather continued to be all that was desired, and many a soldier, tired out with his campaigning in the Philippines, wished that the voyage might last a long time. “Sure, an’ it almost makes me wisht I was a sailor,” observed Dan Casey. “A loife on the rollin’ dape seems jest to suit me.” “You have your sea legs now, Dan,” replied Gilbert, who stood by. “But you didn’t have them when we came to the Philippines.” “Mine cracious, dot’s so!” laughed Carl Stummer. “Ton’t you rememper how ve rolled und pitched around like ve vos rupper palls?” he added to Casey. “Sure, an’ I do that,” responded the Irishman. “An’ do yez remimber the hurricane, an’ how it thundered an’ lightninged?” “Excuse me, put I ton’t vont no sthorm,” said Carl. “Dot vos enough to last a whole life und two veeks more, py chiminy!” And he shook his head gravely. A moment later he saw Nuggy Polk pass, in company with Nickerson, and called Gilbert’s attention to the pair. “Dot man on der outside vos ask me apout you, lieutenant,” he said. “He seemed to pe anxious to know you.”