“An’ it would be stakin’ your life, lad,” Sam said nervously. “Surely you would not be simple enough to have any dealin’s with him here, when you know a single cry from the scoundrel would bring all those men upon us, an’ thus put an end to any effort of ours in Abel Grant’s behalf.” Just for an instant it was as if Abraham repented of the threat, and then he shut his teeth tightly, literally hissing the words: “If he tempts me I shall take the chances!” So far had anger against the lad who had worked us so much harm gained ascendency over me, that I was unable to consider calmly the situation. I forgot, strange as it may seem, that we were surrounded by an enemy who would discover us at the lightest sound; that the least false move on our part would insure imprisonment on board the Good Hope, and thus would be fatal to the chances, if indeed we had any, of lending Abel Grant a hand. I thought only of the desire for revenge, and held my peace when I should have insisted that Abraham give over any such wild thoughts. Sam did not make further protest, most like because he believed Abraham’s threat was simply a safety-valve to his temper, and that he would not be wild enough to do other than remain silent and motionless within this poor refuge of ours. As to myself, I gave no heed to either Sam or Abe; but kept my eyes fixed upon that miserable specimen of a lad who was walking slowly and carelessly, but yet surely, toward where we lay in hiding. It seemed to me then, even as it does now, that the judgment of the Lord was heavy upon Luther Stedman at that moment, causing him to advance directly to his undoing--as if he had, because of his many sins against his country, been delivered into our power, and without allowing the thought to shape itself definitely in my mind, I was firmly convinced that within a certain short time he would be our prisoner. If one of us had held that cur by the hand he could not have moved more in accord with our feverish desires, for, leaving the sailors and marines an hundred yards or more up the beach, he came directly along to where the little creek, which drained the marsh in which we lay, ran into the sea, and then aimlessly, as if against his own will, he advanced along the edge of the stream, picking his way daintily over the soft ground. Involuntarily I glanced toward Abraham who, on one knee, was leaning forward like some beast of prey ready to make a spring, and the knowledge that he was minded to leap upon Luther Stedman, if peradventure that miserable whelp gave him the opportunity, caused everything to vanish from my mind save the possibility of revenge.