"We've been driven out of New York, and have got to skip the country," answered Barney.
"And the long and short of it is," Bissell hastened to add, "you must find some safe place in which to secrete us until the schooner is ready for sea."
"Hum! I don't know about you, Mr. Bissell."
"Don't know about me! What do you mean, sir?"
"I don't think it's particularly safe to have anything to do with you. I've noticed that whoever has worked with you, or for you, has been fetched up with a round turn sooner or later, and that you always get off scot-free."
"Come, come, Pete," said Barney hastily, "if you've got any grudge against Emory, it's no time to show it now, when we're all in serious trouble. Just lay it aside till we're in smooth water again."
"Well, for your sake, Barney, I suppose I must do what I can for the crowd; but I tell you what, old fellow, it goes awfully against the grain to do anything for that smooth-tongued traitor."
"Come, come, Pete," said Bissell, in his most plausible tone, "if I've offended you in any way I'm ready and willing to make it all right with you. And now tell us, where can you put us for a night and a day?"
"First, I want to know who this stranger is. You'll please to remember that I haven't been introduced to him yet."
"Excuse me, Pete," Barney hastened to say. "It's Bill Bunce, a friend of mine; you've heard me speak of him;" and then he explained how he happened to be with them.