The others stood, awed, frightened.
"There was three voices," whispered Scraff. "They seemed to be scattered among the trees. It's black magic, that's what it is—or old Scroggie's ghost," he finished with a shudder.
"Joe, I'm ashamed of you," chided the white-faced deacon. "Come along to my house, all of you, and I'll have wife make us a strong cup of tea."
They passed on, and then from the sable-hued cedars bordering the orchard four small figures stole and moved softly away.
Once safely out on the road they paused to look back.
"Boys," whispered Billy, "she worked fine. Them Sand-sharkers are goin' to stay where they belong. An', fellers, seein' as we've promised fish, fish it's gotta be." And so was formed the Scotia Fish Supply Company.
Four shadowy forms drifted apart and were lost in deeper shadows. The golden moon rode peacefully in the summer sky.
CHAPTER III
APPRAISING THE NEW TEACHER
The morning wood-mists were warm, sweet-scented; the wood-birds' song of thanksgiving was glad with the essence of God-given life. But the man astride the dejected and weary horse saw none of the beauties of his surroundings, heard none of the harmony, experienced none of the exhilaration of the life all about him, as he rode slowly down the winding trail between the trees. He sat erect in his saddle, eyes fixed straight before him. His face was strong and seamed with tiny lines. The prominence of his features was accentuated by the thinness of the face. Beady black eyes burned beneath the shadows of heavy brows. A shock of iron-grey hair brushed his shoulders. In one hand he held a leather-bound book, a long thumb fixed on the printed page from which his attention had been momentarily diverted by his survey of the woodland scene.