Percy gave the promise, and thus failed his last chance, his last solid hope of solving the mystery that had so perplexed him and that was perplexing him still; aye, and that must continue to perplex him until he could discover that which was so strangely, yet so effectually, hidden from him. “By the way,” he said, after they had both arisen and were ready for returning to the deck--the thought had at that moment occurred to him--“there is one thing you can tell me. I have often wondered that Captain Tryon never offered nor asked to remain beneath the roof of our cottage through a night. Why is this? Where does he spend his time when on shore?” The old man scratched his head, and then gave his trousers a hoist; then he scratched his head again. Finally, with a burst, he answered: “’Pon my word, Percy, I can’t tell you. One thing I will say--yes, two of ’em--and them’s the only two I’ll speak, if ’twas to save my life! First, then, the captain, when he is ashore, spends a part of his time in another place, where he’s got friends. It isn’t anywhere about these parts. Second, I haven’t the least bit of doubt that he’s got a secret hidin’ place somewhere near the Cove, or, anyhow, not a great ways off; but, as I’m a livin’ man, I don’t know where it is. I aint one of them that he trusts with that kind of a secret.” “A hiding-place near--” “Hush! Be careful, for heaven’s sake! Don’t say any more. Let that be the last.” “So be it, Donald, and for what you have told me I thank you.” “Say!--Percy!” catching the young man by the arm as he was about to lift his foot to the first step of the ladder, “you won’t lisp a word to your mother of what I’ve told ye--not a word!” “Have no fear, Donald. I will speak of it to nobody, and never as having come from you.” “Bless ye for that, my boy.” And then they went on deck, where they found the men of the crew variously employed. Half of them had gone on shore, while the remainder were at work putting matters to rights. Old Donald’s first care after his pilot had left him was to attend to the replacing of the lost topgallant-mast, for which they had plenty of spar timber aboard. A dozen or more of the crew gathered around our hero as he stood on the quarterdeck, all eager to take him by the hand and speak a parting word. He read in their faces the feeling that they might never see him again. The information Donald had given him enabled him to do this. And his words of good will and blessing in response appeared to be accepted by them as though they were aware of his knowledge. They probably thought their old mate had told him of their plans for the future. He gave them, each and all, a hearty grasp of the hand and a soul-sent God’s blessing, and so he left them. Old Donald went with him to the shore; and the last friendly look exchanged between them was through brimming tears.