knolls and hummocks.

"He bes hid away somewheres, sure's Saint Peter was a fisherman," said
the skipper.

"Axin' yer pardon, skipper, I bes t'inkin' as how maybe he bain't dead,"
said Nick Leary, humbly. "Maybe he got t'rough to Brig Tickle, sir, an'
from the Tickle he'd be headin' for Witless Bay this very minute."

The skipper shook his head.

"There bain't a man on the coast could live t'rough a flurry the like o'
that widout he found shelter," he replied. "He bes dead somewheres widin
t'ree or four mile o' Chance Along, ye kin lay to that, Nick."

They returned to the harbor after dark and said not a word to the others
about the business that had occupied them throughout the day; Brennen
and Nick Leary were asked many questions, but they lied valiantly,
saying that they had been spying out boat-timber. Had they admitted that
they had devoted a whole day to searching over the barren for the body
of Foxey Jack Quinn a suspicion that the missing man had carried away
something of extraordinary value would have fired the harbor and set
every able-bodied inhabitant on the quest. That would not have suited
the skipper's plans. He did not want a knowledge of the necklace of
diamonds and rubies to become general.

Doubtless the search for Jack Quinn would have been continued on the
following day but for the unexpected arrival in Chance Along of the good
Father McQueen. The missionary's visits were usually unexpected. He came
now from the northward, on foot and unattended. In a haversack on his