“When you brought this family fight down here to sprinkle salt water on it,” he said at last, having the two of them before him again, with a deck-hand restraining each, “you didn’t get it preserved well enough to keep it from smelling.  I don’t reckon I’ll stir it.  It doesn’t seem to be a marine disaster.  The United States Government has got other things to attend to just now besides settling it.  Listen!”

He held up a forefinger.

“Smyrna isn’t so far away from the seashore but what I’ve had plenty of chances to hear of Colonel Gideon Ward and his general dealings with his neighbors.  For myself, I’d rather have less money and a reputation that didn’t spread quite so far over the edges.  As for you, Cap’n Sproul, as a seaman I can sympathize with you about getting cheated by land-pirates in that timber-land deal and in other things.  But as a representative of the Government I’m not going to help you make good to the extent of fifteen thousand dollars on a hole and a Cap Kidd treasure fake.  Hands off for me, seeing that it’s a matter strictly in the family!  This cutter is due to round to in Portland harbor to-morrow morning a little after nine o’clock.  I’ll send the two of you in my gig to Commercial Wharf, see that both are landed at the same time, and then—­well”—­the commander turned quizzical gaze from one to the other with full appreciation of the situation—­“it then depends on what you do, each of you, and how quick you do it.”

The Cap’n walked out of the room, his hand on his breast pocket.  Colonel Ward followed, closing and unclosing his long fingers as if his hands itched to get at that pocket.

At the first peep of dawn Cap’n Aaron Sproul was posted at the cutter’s fore windlass, eyes straight ahead on the nick in the low, blue line of coast that marked the harbor’s entrance.  His air was that of a man whose anxiety could not tolerate any post except the forepeak.  And to him there came Hiram Look with tremulous eagerness in his voice and the weight of a secret in his soul.

“I heard him and Butts talkin’ last night, Cap’n Aaron,” he announced.  “It was Butts that thought of it first.  The telefoam.  ’Run into the first place and grab a telefoam,’ says Butts.  ’Telefoam ’em at the bank to stop payment.  It will take him ten minutes to run up from the wharf.  Let him think you’re right behind him.  He’s got to go to the bank,’ says Butts.  ’He can’t telefoam ’em to pay the check.’”

The Cap’n’s hand dropped dispiritedly from his clutch at his pocket.

“I knowed something would stop me,” he mourned.  “The whole plot is a hoodoo.  There I was fired back twice onto Cod Lead!  Here he is, landin’ the same time as I do!  And when he stops that check it throws it into law—­and I’ve got the laborin’-oar.”

“It ain’t throwed into law yet, and you ain’t got no laborin’-oar,” cried Hiram, with a chuckle that astonished the despondent Cap’n.  “He can’t telefoam!”