a hundred pounds toward it, I think?"

"Fifty pound, yer reverence! Fifty pound bes what I offered ye, sir,"
returned the skipper, with dismay in his voice.

Father McQueen sighed and shook his head. A cold thrill of anxiety
passed through Dennis Nolan. With the good father displeased there would
be an end of his luck. He glanced at the priest and saw that he was
still shaking his head.

The skipper loved his new store of gold because it meant the beginning
of a fortune and therefore the extension of his power; but on the other
hand he feared that to displease the missionary now in the matter of a
part of that store might turn the saints themselves against him. And
without the good-will of the saints how could he expect his share of
luck?--his share of wrecks?

"I has seventy-five pound for yer reverence," he said. "It bes a
powerful sight of money, father dear, but ye bes welcome to it."

"It is well, my son," returned the missionary.

The skipper felt a glow of relief. He had avoided the risk of
displeasing the saints and at the same time had saved twenty-five
pounds. Even when you earn your money after the skipper's method,
twenty-five pounds looks like quite a considerable lump of money. He
took up a candle and fetched the sum in yellow English sovereigns from
his hiding-place.

Father McQueen devoted the following morning to collecting what he could