nearer, until captain Willoughby laid his hand, from behind the trunk,
on the stranger's shoulder, demanding sternly, but in a low voice, "who
are you?"

The start, the exclamation, and the tremor that succeeded all denoted
the extent of this man's surprise. It was some little time, even,
before he could recover from his alarm, and then he let himself be
known by his answer.

"Massy!" exclaimed Joel Strides, who ordinarily gave this doric sound
to the word 'mercy'--"Massy, captain, is it _you!_ I should as
soon thought of seeing a ghost! What in natur' has brought you out of
the stockade, sir?"

"I think that is a question I might better ask you, Mr. Strides. My
orders were to keep the gate close, and for no one to quit the court-
yard even, until sent on post, or called by an alarm."

"True, sir--quite true--true as gospel. But let us moderate a little,
captain, and speak lower; for the Lord only knows who's in our
neighbourhood. Who's that with you, sir?--Not the Rev. Mr. Woods, is
it?"

"No matter who is with me. _He_ has the authority of my commands
for being here, whoever he may be, while you are here in opposition to
them. You know me well enough, Joel, to understand nothing but the
simple truth will satisfy me."

"Lord, sir, I am one of them that never wish to tell you anything
_but_ truth. The captain has known me now long enough to understand