At this point Jo was arrested by the sound of footsteps behind him.  He folded up his letter precipitately, thrust it into his left breast-pocket, and jumped up with a guilty air about him.

“Why, Bumpus! we have startled you out of a morning nap, I fear,” said Henry Stuart, who, accompanied by his mother, came up at that moment.  “We are on our way to say good-by to Mr. Mason.  As we passed this knoll I caught sight of you, and came up to ask about the boat.”

“It’s all right,” said Bumpus, who quickly recovered his composure,—­indeed, he had never lost much of it.  “I’ve bin down to Saunder’s store and got the ropes for your—­”

“Hush, man I there is no need of telling what they are for,” said Henry, with a mysterious look at his mother.

“Why not tell me all, Henry?” said Mrs. Stuart; “surely, you can trust me?”

“Trust you, mother!” replied the youth, with a smile.  “I should think so; but there are reasons for my not telling you everything just now.  Surely, you can trust me?  I have told you as much as I think advisable in the meantime.  Ere long I will tell you all.”

The widow sighed, and was fain to rest content.  She sat down beside the tree, while her companions talked together, apart, in low tones.

“Now Jo, my man,” continued Henry, “one of our friends must be got out of the way.”

“Wery good; I’m the man as’ll do it.”

“Of course I don’t mean that he’s to be killed!”

“In coorse not.  Who is he?”

“Ole Thorwald.”

“Wot! the descendant o’ the Sea Kings, as he calls himself?”

“The same,” said Henry, laughing at the look of surprise with which Bumpus received this information.

“What has he bin an’ done?”

“He has done nothing as yet,” said Henry; “but he will certainly thwart our schemes if he hears of them.  He has an inveterate ill-will to my poor father (Henry lowered his voice as he proceeded), and I know has suspicions that we are concocting some plan to enable him to escape, and watches us accordingly.  I find him constantly hanging about the jail.  Alas! if he knew how thoroughly determined Gascoyne is to refuse deliverance unless it comes from the proper source, he would keep his mind more at ease.”

“Don’t you think if you wos to tell him that Gascoyne is yer father he would side with us?” suggested Bumpus.

“Perhaps he would.  I think he would; but I dare not risk it.  The easier method will be to outwit him.”

“Not an easy thing for to do, I’m afraid; for he’s a cute old feller.  How is it to be done?” asked Bumpus.

“By telling him the truth,” said Henry; “and you must tell it to him.”

“Well, that is a koorious way,” said Bumpus, with a broad grin.

“But not the whole truth,” continued Henry.  “You must just tell him as much as it is good for him to know, and nothing more; and as the thing must be done at once, I’ll tell you what you have got to say.”