I can bring ten men into the edge of the woods. Two can approach the house as quietly as one and I will go with you. Once there you can tell Marion that your life depends on her accompanying you to Obadiah's. I believe she will go. If she won't—" He stretched out his arms as if in anticipation of the burden they might hold. "If she won't—I'll help you carry her!"
"And meanwhile," said Neil, "Arbor Croche's men—"
"Will be as dead as herring floaters if they show up!" he cried, leaping two feet off the ground in his enthusiasm. "I've got twelve of the damnedest fighters aboard my ship that ever lived and ten of them will be in the edge of the woods!"
Neil's eyes were shining with something that made Nathaniel turn his own to the loading of his pipe.
"Captain Plum, I hope I will be able to repay you for this," he said. There was a trembling break in his voice and for a moment Nathaniel did not look up. His own heart was near bursting with the new life that throbbed within it. When he raised his eyes to his companion's face again there was a light in them that spoke almost as plainly as words.
"You haven't accepted my price, yet, Neil," he replied quietly. "I asked you if you'd—be—a sort of brother—"
Neil sprang to his side with a fervor that knocked the pipe out of his hand.
"I swear that! And if Marion doesn't—"
Suddenly he jerked himself into a listening attitude.
"Hark!"
For a moment the two ceased to breathe. The sound had come to them both, low, distant. After it there fell a brief hush. Then again, as they stared questioningly into each other's eyes, it rolled faintly into the swamp—the deep, far baying of a hound.
"Ah!" exclaimed Neil, drawing back with a deep breath. "I thought they would do it!"
"The bloodhounds!"
Horror, not fear, sent an involuntary shiver through Nathaniel.
"They can't reach us!" assured Neil. There was the glitter of triumph in his eyes. "This was to have been my way of escape after I killed Strang. A quarter of a mile deeper in the swamp I have a canoe." He picked up the gun and box and began forcing his way through the dense alder along the edge of the stream. "I'd like to stay and murder those dogs," he called back, "but it wouldn't be policy."
For a time the crashing of their bodies through the dense growth of the swamp drowned all other sound. Five minutes later Neil stopped on the edge of a wide bog. The hounds were giving fierce tongue in the forest on their left and their nearness sent Nathaniel's hand to his pistol. Neil saw the movement and laughed.
"Don't like the sound, eh?" he said. "We get used to it on Beaver Island. They're just about at the place where they tore little Jim Schredder to pieces a few weeks back. Schredder tried to kill one of the elders for stealing his wife while he was away on a night's fishing trip."
He plunged to his knees in the bog.
"They caught him just before he reached the swamp," he flung back over his shoulder. "Two minutes more and he would have been safe."
Nathaniel, sinking to his knees in the mire, forged up beside him.
"Lord!" he exclaimed, as a breath of air brought a sudden burst of blood-curdling cries to them. "If they'd loosed them on us sooner—"
He shivered at the terrible grimace Neil turned on him.
"Had they slipped the leashes when we escaped, we would have been with poor Schredder now, Captain Plum. By the way—" he stopped a moment to wipe the water and mud from his face, "—three days after they covered Schredder's bones with muck out there, the elder took Schredder's wife! She was too pretty for a fisherman." He started on, but halted suddenly with uplifted hand. No longer could they hear the baying of the dogs. "They've struck the creek!" said Neil. "Listen!"
After an interval of silence there came a long mournful howl.
"Treed—treed or in the water, that's what the howling means. How Croche and his devils are hustling now!"
A curse was mingled with Neil's breath as he forced his way through the bog. Twenty rods farther on they came to a slime covered bit of water on which was floating a dugout canoe. Immense relief replaced the anxiety in Nathaniel's face as he climbed into it. At that moment he was willing to fight a hundred men for Marion's sake, but snakes and bogs and bloodhounds were entirely outside his pale of argument and he exhibited no hesitation in betraying this fact to his companion. For a quarter of a mile Neil forced the dugout through water viscid with slime and rotted substance before the clearer channel of the creek was reached. As they progressed the stream constantly became deeper and more navigable until it finally began to show signs of a current and a little later, under the powerful impetus of Neil's paddle, the canoe shot from between the dense shores into the open lake. A mile away Nathaniel discerned the point of forest beyond which the Typhoon was hidden. He pointed out the location of the ship to his companion.
"You are sure there is a small boat waiting for you on the point?" asked Neil.
"Yes, since early morning."
Neil was absorbed in thought for some time as he drove the canoe through the tall rice grass that grew thick along the edge of the shore.
"How would it be if I landed you on the point and met you to-night at Obadiah's?" he asked suddenly. "It is probable that after we get Marion aboard your ship I will not return to the island again, and it is quite necessary that I run down the coast for a couple of miles—for—" He did not finish his reason, but added: "I can make the whole distance in this rice so there is no danger of being seen. Or you might lie off the point yonder and I would join you early this evening."
"That would be a better plan if we must separate," said Nathaniel, whose voice betrayed the reluctance with which he assented to the project. He had guessed shrewdly at Neil's motive. "Is it possible that we may have another young lady passenger?" he asked banteringly.
There was no answering humor to this in Neil's eyes.
"I wish we might!" he said quietly.
"We can!" exclaimed Nathaniel. "My ship—"
"It is impossible. I am speaking of Winnsome. Arbor Croche's house is in the heart of the town and guarded by dogs. I doubt if she would go, anyway. She has always been like a little sister to Marion and me and she has come to believe—something—as we do. I hate to leave her."
"Obadiah told me about her mother," ventured Nathaniel. "He said that some day Winnsome will be a queen."
"I knew her mother," replied Neil, as though he had not heard Nathaniel's last words. He looked frankly into the other's face. "I worshipped her!"
"Oh-h-h!"
"From a distance," he hastened. "She was as pure as Winnsome is now. Little Winn looks like her. Some day she will be as beautiful."
"She is beautiful now."
"But she is a mere child. Why, it seems only a year ago that I was toting her about on my shoulders! And—by George, that was a year before her mother died! She is sixteen now."
Nathaniel laughed softly.
"To-morrow
