"Well, he tellygrafs o' cou'se to the nex' stashun, an' in less 'n an hour back comes an answer to say as they searched the train when et stopped, an' there warn't no corpse there, nor chest, nor nuthin'. An' ef you'll believe me, sir," concluded Caleb, bending forward and touching his master's knee, "th' ould Commodore ha'n't niver been found fro' that day to this. Et 'most broke Sam's heart; an', as he said to me wan time, 'For all I knaws 'twas the devil; and for all I knaws th' ould maaster be travellin' roun' Spain to this day; but ef so,' says he, 'I reckon by this time he's like Patty Ward's pig--no lavender.'" "That's a very curious tale," said Mr. Fogo, as Caleb leant back in the window-seat and awaited its effect. "'Tes so true, sir, as I'm here--or so Sam used to say. An' the moral goes agen talkin' lightly o' what a man don't understand," he added reflectively. "But forebodin' es so bad as witch-craf', an' 'tes more'n likely they won't come to-night; but if they does, 'tes on'y fair to ax mun who they be dree times afore firin'. What's fair for man es fair--" He broke off and clutched his master by the arm. "Look, sir--look!" About the deck of the old schooner a shaft of light was dancing fitfully--now here, now there, up and down--and all without visible source or guidance. The two watchers leapt to their feet and peered out at the window. The strange brilliance flickered to and fro, falling even on the further bank, and threading with a line of yellow the silver-grey of the moonlight. Then it ceased suddenly. Caleb and his master waited breathlessly. Half a minute passed without further sign. Then they heard a light splash or two, and Mr. Fogo pointed frantically at the line of the moon's reflection on the creek. "There! Look--the boat!" Caleb whipped the blunderbuss up to his shoulder and shouted-- "Who be 'ee? Darn 'ee, here goes--wan, two, dree, all to wanst!" He pulled the trigger. A tongue of flame leapt forth and burst upon the night with a terrific explosion; and as Caleb fell backwards with the shock, the clumsy engine slipped from his fingers and fell with a clatter upon Mr. Fogo's instep. When the pair recovered and looked forth again, the echoes had died away, and once more the night was tranquil. Footnotes, Chapter XIX [1] A monotonous chant or burthen. [2] A fiddler. [3] Thick-set. [4] Stout. [5] Strength. [6] Kin. [7] A concealed compartment or drawer. CHAPTER XX. HOW CERTAIN CHARACTERS FOUND THEMSELVES, AT DEAD OF NIGHT, UPON THE FIVE LANES ROAD. Panting, slipping, with aching sides, but terror at his heels, Sam Buzza tore up the hill. Lights danced before him, imaginary voices shouted after; but he never glanced behind. The portmanteau was monstrously heavy, and more than once he almost dropped it; but it was tightly packed, apparently, for nothing shook inside it. Only the handles creaked in his grasp.