Sprague had run up forward, and was peering ahead as we entered the inlet.

“Here he comes!” he cried, “by Jingo, here he comes!  Well, what do you think of that?  Isn’t he a brick, Pete?”

I tried to see what all this was about.  The moon was bright on the water, and at last I could make out some white thing, like a sea gull, moving toward us.  We were running before the wind and soon were near enough to get a good view.  It was a bird of some kind.  We were in no doubt about the kind when it raised itself upon the water, flapped its wings and uttered a loud “Quack! qu-a-a-a-ck!”

“It’s a duck!” said Ed Mason.

“Of course it’s a duck,” replied Pete, “we got him at Duck Island, too.  It’s Simon.  Can you reach him, Warren?”

“I think so,” answered Sprague, “easy now!”

Pete brought the yacht carefully alongside the duck, Sprague twined one foot around the bob-stay, reached over and lifted the bird into the boat.  As soon as it was set on deck the duck shook its feathers, gave one defiant waggle of the tail, and paddled aft, remarking:  “Quack! quack! qua-a-a-ck!”

“Well!  Simon, old man!” said the delighted Pete, “did you think we had left you behind?  You didn’t think that of us, did you?  But you had started out to overtake us, hadn’t you?  That shows what a good old sport you are.  The Chief might have left you in the lurch, but your Uncle Warren and I wouldn’t.”

Simon waddled about a little, and finally settled down in the center of a coil of rope.  Once more we turned and started again on our flight from Bailey’s Harbor.

It was a beautiful night.  The moonlight sparkled on the water, and shone clear and soft on the sails of the boat.  The breeze was cool and delicious.  Gregory the Gauger had stopped thumping and everything was very pleasant and restful after the jail, and the other exciting events of the night.  Except for the sound of the water at the bow, we sailed for five or ten minutes in perfect silence.  My eyes half closed and my head fell forward as I sat in the cockpit.

“Well, I’d go below, and turn in,” said Mr. Daddles, “but I don’t know about facing that sabre-toothed tiger down there.  We made a great mistake, boys, in not slitting his weasand the first time we saw him.  Somehow, I think I’m going through life with him in close pursuit.”

“Let’s see what he’s up to now,” said Sprague.

“He’s probably scuttling the ship,” suggested Jimmy Toppan.

Sprague opened the cabin doors, and pushed back the hatchway.  Gregory had lighted the lamp and was calmly engaged in examining the clock.  To our surprise the wrath seemed to have gone out of the man.

“Where didger git that air clock?” he asked, peering up at Sprague.

“In Boston,” Sprague answered him, “what do you think of it?”

“Pretty fair, pretty fair.  What does a clock like that cost?”

They entered into a conversation about the clock, and some of the other furnishings of the cabin.  Sprague asked him if he wanted to come on deck.  He accepted the invitation and came up.