I’d left the salutin’ blunderbuss here at home, and hadn’t but one pike-pole aboard.  ’How many boat loads of ’em is there, Sylvanus?’ I says.  ‘Two,’ says he.  ‘All right,’ says I, ’that’s one apiece.  Take off your coat, and roll up your shirt sleeves, Sylvanus,’ says I, ‘for you’re a goin’ to have heavy work slab heavin’!’ On they come to board us, one on each side.  ’Fire out them or’nary useless slabs, Sylvanus,’ says I.  ‘But there’s a boat with a lot of men in it,’ says he, a-chucklin’ like an ijut.  Hope I haven’t given the pass word away, John?  Well, I said:  ’Fire out the slabs, and let the men get out o’ the way.’  And he began firing, and I kept my side a-goin’, and the slabs fell flat and heavy and fast, knockin’ six at a shot, till they cussed and swore, and hollered and yelled murder, and that was the last we two saw of the Mushrats and the paintin’ of the Susan Thomas.”

Subdued but hearty laughter followed these stories, and, when the Captain ended, the veteran pushed the decanter towards him, remarking:  “A good shtory is a foine thing, Captin, dear, but it makes ye just a throifle dhroy.”  The Captain responded, and told Mr. Terry that he was neglecting himself, an omission which that gentleman proceeded to rectify.  Mr. Errol, with his muffling cloud still round his neck, was asleep in an easy chair.  In his sleep he dreamt, the dream ending in an audible smack of his lips, and the exclamation “Very many thanks, ma’am; the toddy’s warm and comforting.”  When his own voice aroused him, he was astonished to witness the extreme mirth of all parties, and was hardly convinced when it was attributed to the stories of the veteran and the Captain.  The Squire, though amused, was resolved to have a word with his widowed sister.

The lawyer paced up and down in the cool night, trying to combine two things which do not necessarily go together, warmth and wakefulness.  Everything was so quiet, that he seemed to hear Timotheus and Sylvanus pacing about rapidly like himself, when suddenly a little spark of fire appeared at the far end of the verandah towards the stables.  Cautiously, under cover of bushes he approached the spot, but saw nothing, although he smelt fire.  Then he knelt down and peered under the flower laden structure.  The light was there, growing.  In a moment it became a flame, and, as he rushed to the spot, a lad fell into his arms.  Clutching his collar with his left hand in spite of kicks and scratches, he hauled his prisoner back to the verandah, and, thrusting in his right arm beneath the floor, drew out the blazing rags and threw them on the gravel walk or on the grass until he was sure that not one remained.  Some watcher at the front window had alarmed the guard-room, for out tumbled its occupants, and the lad was secured by Nash, and handed over to the Captain and Mr. Errol.  Calling to Toner to keep an eye on the whole front, the detective, taking in the situation, hastened to the stables along with the lawyer, while the Squire