“I cannot hear it. It tries to sing, but there is something in the way. I cannot. Some day I will hear it and play it, but--” and he drew nearer Thorpe and touched his arm--“that day will be very bad for me. I lose something.” His eyes of the wistful dog were big and wondering. “Queer little Phil!” cried Thorpe laughing whimsically. “Who tells you these things?” “Nobody,” said the cripple dreamily, “they come when it is like to-night. In Bay City they do not come.” At this moment a third voice broke in on them. “Oh, it's you, Mr. Thorpe,” said the captain of the vessel. “Thought it was some of them lumber-jacks, and I was going to fire 'em below. Fine night.” “It is that,” answered Thorpe, again the cold, unresponsive man of reticence. “When do you expect to get in, Captain?” “About to-morrow noon,” replied the captain, moving away. Thorpe followed him a short distance, discussing the landing. The cripple stood all night, his bright, luminous eyes gazing clear and unwinking at the moonlight, listening to his Heart Song of the Sea. Chapter XXX Next morning continued the traditions of its calm predecessors. Therefore by daybreak every man was at work. The hatches were opened, and soon between-decks was cumbered with boxes, packing cases, barrels, and crates. In their improvised stalls, the patient horses seemed to catch a hint of shore-going and whinnied. By ten o'clock there loomed against the strange coast line of the Pictured Rocks, a shallow bay and what looked to be a dock distorted by the northern mirage. “That's her,” said the captain. Two hours later the steamboat swept a wide curve, slid between the yellow waters of two outlying reefs, and, with slackened speed, moved slowly toward the wharf of log cribs filled with stone. The bay or the dock Thorpe had never seen. He took them on the captain's say-so. He knew very well that the structure had been erected by and belonged to Morrison & Daly, but the young man had had the foresight to purchase the land lying on the deep water side of the bay. He therefore anticipated no trouble in unloading; for while Morrison & Daly owned the pier itself, the land on which it abutted belonged to him. From the arms of the bay he could make out a dozen figures standing near the end of the wharf. When, with propeller reversed, the Pole Star bore slowly down towards her moorings, Thorpe recognized Dyer at the head of eight or ten woodsmen. The sight of Radway's old scaler somehow filled him with a quiet but dangerous anger, especially since that official, on whom rested a portion at least of the responsibility of the jobber's failure, was now found in the employ of the very company which had attempted that failure. It looked suspicious. “Catch this line!” sung out the mate, hurling the coil of a handline on the wharf. No one moved, and the little rope, after a moment, slid overboard with a splash. The captain, with a curse, signalled full speed astern.