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wish it for a wonder to show friends, a powder of any colour you please — white, red, blue, or green.”

Of the three who leaned over the packets of powder, old Jacob was the only one who bore with even temper the sad reverse of the night before; for master and mate glared at each other in such wrath as had thrown a shadow over every soul in the ship.

Some had waked with aching heads, for which they had their own folly to thank; some were like men who dream they have got a great treasure but wake to find pebblestones or worse under the pillow: since the Porcupine ketch had yielded them no gold and had stung them instead with her quills. In all truth the ship was by the ears, for in extremities your sea sharks are uncertain friends, as a touch of foul weather will manifest to any man’s satisfaction.

“Knough of this,” said the Old One, and he pushed aside the packets and folded his arms. ‘‘We lose time. There is a thief amongst us.”

"A thief, you say?” And the hot red of anger burned its way across the boatswain’s face, for the three had turned and looked hard at him.

The Old One and Harry Malcolm then exchanged quick glances, and Jacob shut his small mouth tight and knotted his brows.

“Well,” cried Phil, ‘‘would you charge me with theft?”

“Some one,” said the Old One, lingering over each word, “hath wrought a clever plot against us.”

"Say on, say on!”

“He is a man, I make no doubt, whose buttons are breaking with venom.”

There was heavy silence in the cabin. Jacob, pursing