the innkeeper leading us with a lantern, its light flickering in a
west wind. The sky was cloudy, the night dark. Our host lent us
the lantern, kindly offering to build a bonfire on the beach at
eleven, to light us home.

"Careful, boys," said the innkeeper, as we got aboard. "Aim
straight fer th' head o' th' island, Can't ye see it--right over
yer heads there? 'Member, they 's awful rough water below."

We pushed off, D'ri leading. I could see nothing of the island,
but D'ri had better eyes, and kept calling me as he went ahead.
After a few strokes of the paddle I could see on the dark sky the
darker mass of tree-tops.

"Better light up," I suggested. We were now close in.

"Hush!" he hissed. Then, as I came up to him, he went on,
whispering: "'T ain't bes' t' mek no noise here. Don' know none
tew much 'bout this here business. Don' cal'late we 're goin' t'
hev any trouble, but if we dew--Hark!"

We had both heard a stir in the bushes, and stuck our paddles in
the sand, listening. After a little silence I heard D'ri get up
and step stealthily into the water and buckle on his sword. Then I
could hear him sinking the canoe and shoving her anchor deep into
the sand. He did it with no noise that, fifty feet away, could
have been distinguished from that of the ever-murmuring waters. In
a moment he came and held my canoe, while I also took up my trusty
blade, stepping out of the canoe into the shallow water. Then he
shoved her off a little, and sank her beside the other. I knew not