Having secured his boat, the young man stepped back and took from the stern-sheets a willow basket, in which were a dozen fine fish; and then, with the basket on his arm, he took the path that led toward the castle. The fish were intended for that place, he having promised the old steward that he should have them before dark, provided, of course, that he should have the good fortune to catch them. For the distance of a quarter of a mile the path lay through a thick wood and flanked the westerly side of Allerdale park. Half-way through this wood the young fisherman had gone, when he saw, coming toward him from the direction of the castle, a man whom he would he have avoided if the thing had been possible. As it was, he made a movement as though he would step aside from the path, but the man had seen him, and was already upon the point of hailing him. “Oho! Maitland, you are the man I was after. I’ve been searching for you this half hour.” “Ralph Tryon! What do you want of me?” The man whom Percy had thus named was not quite so tall as was our hero, though he appeared the heavier and more stocky of frame. His age would be a difficult matter for a stranger to determine. He might have been thirty, he might have been more; but, in all probability he was considerably younger. His face was more than half covered by a full, thick, coarse, yellow beard; his hair, long and matted, was tawny, like a lion’s mane; while two eyes, small and sunken but bright and fiery, were decidedly black in color. His garb was of the sea, and, take him all in all, he was not a pleasant man to look upon. Such was the man, who, for two years and a little more, had held the office which Hugh Maitland had once filled--chief of the Smugglers of King’s Cove. “You are wanted to pilot in the Staghound,” was Tryon’s answer to Percy’s demand. “Pilot in the Staghound!” repeated the youth in blank surprise. “Why don’t you do it yourself?” “Because I must go another way. I have business that I can not put aside.” “Donald Rodney is on board, is he not?” “Yes, but he can not run her in safely. I would not trust him, and he dare not trust himself. No, no, you must do it.” “But, you have no right to ask it of me. I wish to have nothing more to do with the brig, in any way or shape.” “Have a care, young man! Do you forget your promise to your dying father?” “No,” said Percy quickly. “I do not forget it. For five years and ten months I kept it; and then it was at an end. I promised him that, until I reached the age of twenty-one, I would perform that task whenever called upon to do so. The one-and-twentieth anniversary of my birthday is past and gone; and I am free.”