The landlord looked at him solemnly for a few moments, and then asked,-- “Did you ever happen to hear of Captain Kidd?” “Captain Kidd?” repeated Bart, in innocent wonder, “Captain Kidd? Hear of him? Of course I’ve heard of him. Everybody knows about him.” “Well, if that man’s ghost don’t haunt this bay, then I’m a nigger.” “Haunt this bay? What do you mean? What had Captain Kidd to do with this bay? He was hanged at London.” “He had a precious lot to do with this bay,” said the landlord, positively. “Why, I don’t see how that could be,” said Bart, trying to get the landlord excited by contradiction. “I don’t see how he ever could have been here. His story’s a simple enough one; soon told. I’ve heard it often. How he went from New York to London well recommended, and got a commission from the British government to command a ship, for the purpose of putting down pirates in India and the East. But this didn’t suit him quite; so he turned pirate himself. Most of his piracies took place in the East, though. It’s true he returned to America, and made a great panic; but he was captured and sent to England, where he was tried and executed. That was in 1699. I remember the date very well. So I don’t see how he could have done much about here.” Bart spoke very volubly, and seemed to have the Life of Captain Kidd at his tongue’s end. The landlord listened very attentively. But Bart’s words, instead of shaking his own convictions, only served, as Bart had hoped and intended, to strengthen and confirm them. As Bart spoke, he raised himself up out of the lounging attitude in which he had been sitting, looked full in Bart’s face, and as he ceased,-- “Very well. Grant all that,” said the landlord, with a comprehensive sweep of his hand, which seemed to concede every single statement that Bart had made, in the fullest and frankest manner. “Grant--all--that--every word of it. I don’t doubt it at all--not me. Very well. Now mark me. Captain Kidd did really, and truly, and actually, flourish about here, in this here bay--for he’s left behind him the most--un--mis--tak--able in--di--ca--tions. I’ve seen ’em myself, with my own eyes. I’ve handled ‘em myself, and with my own hands. And besides, that there pirate must have been about over the coast of America a good deal more than you give him credit for, or he wouldn’t have left a name behind, from one end of America to the other; and, at any rate, he must have been here, or else he wouldn’t have left behind what he has left, and what I’ve seen with my own eyes.” “I didn’t know,” said Bart, “that he had left any traces of himself here. What are they? What kind of traces?” “What kind of traces?” said the landlord. “Traces that beat everything in the way of traces that any pirate ever made. What do you say, for instance, to a pit so deep that nobody’s ever been able to get to the bottom of it?” “A pit? What sort of a pit?” asked Bart, full of excitement.