“Ask him,” suggested Bradford, but Standish, carefully replacing the totem in its covering, shook his head.
“No, no! Hobomok is too much of a gentleman to pry into what is not meant for him to know, and I should be ashamed to let him know that I had surprised what he fain would have held a secret.
“No, I’ll lay the letter in first, and then the totem to keep it down, and my little maid will understand all that is meant by the one and the other. There! And now, friend, I thank you. We’re growing old men, Will; ‘it is toward evening, and the day is far spent,’ but this night’s work will stand both for you and for me when all else fails. Come, let us be going.”
CHAPTER XXXIII.
A BOLD BUCCANEER.
“It’s an ill wind, they say, that blows nobody good, and I believe this is that same wind.”
“Tut, tut, man! ’Tis ill luck speaking against the wind. Wot you not who is the Prince of the Power of the Air?”
“Sathanas; and I verily believe he’s in this smoky chimney.”