The young man stopped short a few rods from the shore, and listened with all his ears for any sounds which would afford him further information, while the shipmaster and the cook continued on their way. He could plainly hear the hurried dip of oars, and the rattle of the looms in the thole-pins. Beyond a doubt there was a movement of some kind on the part of the mate, and Louis rushed in hot haste to the bank of the creek, for there were signs of treachery on the part of the Maud’s officer in the boat. “Halloo! Hallo! Mr. Frinks!” he shouted at the top of his lungs, which were not weakened by consumptive tendencies. “On shore!” replied the mate, as he ceased rowing. “What are you about, Mr. Frinks?” demanded Louis. The boat was already too far off for an easy going conversation; but if the mate condescended to explain his movement, it might do something to restore the young man’s confidence. “I am going to look along the shore towards the town to see if there is another creek you will have to cross, and to ferry you over if I should find one,” answered Frinks, still laying on his oars. “What is the matter, Louis?” asked Captain Ringgold, hastily returning to the shore, followed by Bickling. “I don’t know that anything is the matter,” replied Louis. “The mate shoved off in the boat, and says he is going towards the town to see if there is another creek, in order to ferry us across it if there should be one.” “I don’t quite like the looks of that movement, and I am decidedly in favor of keeping the mate on shore with us. If a boat-keeper is needed, let the cook attend to that duty,” replied the captain; and his tones indicated that he also discovered some signs of treachery. “All right; order him to bring the boat back to the shore, captain,” answered Louis. “In the boat!” shouted the shipmaster. “On shore!” replied Frinks. “What do you want now?” There was something in the tone of the mate, and in the little word “now” with which he ended his sentence, that indicated a sort of contempt for the one who hailed him. “Bring the boat to the shore!” added Captain Ringgold, loud enough to be heard half-way across the bay. “Very well, captain! I will come ashore as soon as I have taken a look across this point of land,” answered Frinks; and Louis thought there was something of the raillery with which he had mixed up his speeches when he explained in what manner he had made the capture of the party in the forenoon; in other words there was something like triumph in his tones. “Come ashore at once!” cried the captain, fortified in his suspicion that all was not right by the manner of the mate. “All right! You wait till I come!” was the response of Frinks. At the same moment the rattle of the oars and the dip of them in the water were heard, and it was evident that the treacherous mate was pulling with all his might away from the spot where he had landed his late companions in the boat.