THE CAPTAIN KNUCKLES UNDER

‘This is a bad job,” said he at last, shaking his head.

‘It was none of our choosing,”’ said I.

‘‘The captain,” says he, ‘‘ would like to speak with
your friend. They might speak at the window.”

«‘ And how do we know what treachery he means?”
cried I.

‘He means none, David,” returned Mr. Riach, ‘‘and
if he did, I’ll tell ye the honest truth, we couldnae get
the men to follow.”

“Ts that so?” said I.

“‘T'll tell ye more than that,” said he. ‘‘It’s not only
the men; it’s me. I’m frich’ened, Davie.” And he
smiled across at me. ‘‘No,” he continued, ‘‘ what we
want is to be shut of him.”’

Thereupon I consulted with Alan, and the parley was
agreed to and parole given upon either side; but this
was not the whole of Mr. Riach’s business, and he now
begged me for a dram with:such instancy and such re-
minders of his former kindness, that at last I handed
him a pannikin with about a gill of brandy. He drank
a part, and then carried the rest down upon the deck,
to share it (I suppose) with his superior.

A little after, the captain came (as was agreed) to one
of the windows, and stood there in the rain, with his
arm in a sling, and looking stern and pale, and so old
that my heart smote me for having fired upon him.

Alan at once held a pistol in his face.

‘Put that thing up!” said the captain. ‘‘ Havel not
passed my word, sir? or do ye seek to affront me?”

_ “Captain,” says Alan, ‘‘I doubt your word is a break-
able. Last night ye haggled and argle-bargled like an

apple-wife; and then passed me your word, and gave
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