Down by the water’s edge Mr. Bigglethorpe sat on a stone in front of the carved out block, thinking of the best fly for bass, and of a great fishing party to the lakes that should include Mr. Bulky.  Standing up to stretch his legs and facing the block of limestone, he thought he saw a narrow line of light along the left perpendicular incision.  Moving over, he saw the same perpendicular line on the right.  Just then the clouds drifted off the moon, and he convinced himself that the light lines were reflections from the sheen that glimmered over the lake.  He also thought he heard a whining noise, such as a sick person or a child might make, and then a rough voice saying:  “Stow that now!” but Richards, like the two Pilgrims above, was snoring, and Harry had a slight cold in his head.  “What a stoopid, superstitious being I should become,” said the fisherman to himself, “if I were out here long all alone.”  But, hark! the sound of paddles softly dipping came from the left, and at once the sentry lay down behind the upturned skiff, and, gun in hand, listened.  He poked Richards with his foot, and, as he awoke, enjoined silence.  Richards crawled out, and quietly replaced the boat in its original position.  There were now two on guard instead of one.  The boat entered the lake.  It was the scow, Richards’ scow, and Harry was indignant.  There were five men in it, and they were talking in a low tone.

“Quite sure them blarsted Squire folks has all gone home, Pete?”

“Sartin, I seen ’em, the hull gang’s scattered and skee-daddled, parsons an’ all.”

“Where’s the blarsted light, then?”

“Seems to me I kin see long, thin streaks.  O Lawr, boys, Rodden must ha’ been hard put, when he drapped the block into the hole.  It’s shet up tight.  Hev ye got the chisel and mallet?”

“They’re all right.”

“Then less git ashore and drap the block out, though it’s an orful pity to lose it in the drink.”

“Carn’t we git the blarsted thing back to its place agin?”

“Onpossible; wild horses couldn’t do it.”

Harry whispered to Bigglethorpe:  “What’ll we do?” and the fisherman answered:  “Our duty is to fire, but we weren’t told to kill anybody.  Don’t you fire till I reload.”

Then Bigglethorpe called out:  “Surrender in the Queen’s name,” and fired above the scow.  Two or three pistol shots rattled over the sentries’ heads, and flattened themselves on the rock behind.  “All ready!” said the storekeeper, and Harry let fly his duck shot into the middle of the crowd, who paddled vigorously from the shore.  Bill Richards, having alarmed the upper sentries by the discharge of his gun, came running down, with the Pilgrims and Rufus, led by the detective, not far behind him.  “Shove out the skiff,” called Bigglethorpe.  The Richards shoved it off, and Bill rowed, when the two sentries got on board.  “Go it, Bill, after the old tub,” cried Harry; “we’ll soon catch up.”