“Thank yer, Captain,—­thank yer kindly!—­hope no offence, Captain,—­a chap picks up a deal of gossip in twenty year, and—­”

“No offence in the world!” cried Helwyse; “I take you for a powerful enchanter, who seems to steer one way, when he is in fact taking his passenger in another.  Where are you bound?”

“Well, I was dropping down a bit to see if the schooner ain’t around yet.  She’d ought to be in by now, if nothing ain’t runned into her in the fog.”

Helwyse paused a moment, eying Charon sharply.  “The schooner ‘Resurrection,’” he began, and, seeing he had hit the mark, continued, “was run into last night on Long Island Sound, and had her bowsprit carried away.  But no serious damage was done, and she’ll be in by night, if the wind holds.”

With this he bade the awe-stricken old yarn-spinner farewell, and, with secret laughter at his bewilderment, turned to the narrow zigzag path that climbed the bank, passing the birch-stump champion without a glance of recognition.  A few vigorous minutes brought him to the summit, whence, facing round, he saw the broad river crawl beneath him; the little boat, with Charon in the stern, drift downwards; and beyond, the whole rough length of Manhattan Island.

A few days before Thor Helwyse’s departure for Europe (some four years after his wife’s death) he had left a certain little boy and girl in charge of the nurse,—­a woman in whose faithfulness he placed the utmost confidence,—­and had crossed from Brooklyn to New Jersey, to say good by to Brother Hiero.  Returning at night he found one of the children—­his son Balder—­locked up in the nursery; the nurse and the little girl had disappeared, nor did Thor again set eyes on either of them.

Balder, as he grew up, often questioned his father concerning various events which had happened beyond the reach of his childish memory; and among other stories, no doubt this of the farewell visit to Uncle Glyphic had been often told with all the details.  By no miracle, therefore, but simply by an acute mental process, associating together time, place, and description, was Balder enabled so to dumfounder old Charon.

Embarking on a phantom quest, his brain full of whimsical visions, Balder had thus unexpectedly stepped into the path of his legitimate affair.  The accident (for no better reason than that it was such) inspired him with a superficial cheerfulness.  He had landed some distance below his uncle Glyphic’s house,—­for such indeed it was,—­and he now took his way towards it through trees and underbrush.  It was so situated, and so thickly surrounded with foliage, as to be visible from no point in the vicinity.  Had the site been chosen with a view to concealment, the builder could not have succeeded better.  Remembering the eccentricity of his uncle’s character, as portrayed in many an anecdote, Balder would not have been surprised to find him living under ground, or in a pyramid.