The Washington times., 1913-01-25
CHAPTER XVI.
The Quest Of Bordeaux.

j"dE dawn was lifting away at the
head of the Firth Of Clyde when
our little boat came out of the
strait into the wide estuary. Here
the north wind played with greater free
dom in our frozen sail, and the boat,
leaning over on its side, spurned the
cold foam before her.
Bordeaux and I sat in the stern: he
with the tiller in his hand, and I hold
ing the saiI-rope, which was given a
turn around the cleek. Bordeau was
steering across the wind to the Cloch
Ferry Inn on the Lowland store, where
we expect that all our immediate trou-
bles would be at an end. and We would
enjoy q fair meal and sleep.
In the bow Of the small craft we had
rigged a couch Of Bordeaux's books and
clothes for Mariposa. Over the Prov.
and canopying her little nest. we had
spread a BIT of canvas. Although the
boat was pitching violently, my lass
the daylight frightened / could see her
bonny face in the tent-light under the
canvas. and 1t was as IL her dreams
were not unpleasant, for her lips were
parted in a smile, and the white mist
of her breath showed of a touch of
crimson on her cheeks.
kilellan lay about a mile to the left
OF US, the houses more clear to my eye
because they were familiar. The castle
peered through break In the trees, its
cray walls and smokless chimneys lend
ing haunted air to II in that frosty
dawn. ! wondered IL. indeed. the castle
was as tenantless as 1t looked.
Black Archibald was dead, and Aun-
IL young jamie, with his fine clothes and
manners and fondness for town life.
stayed long in that ghoul- whispering
place. But, despite all that, 1t was
home to me, and fine would have liked
to have been going there. but for one
thing. About a quarter of a mile to the
left of the castle, set amid green fields
with a backing of brown fir, was a
gaunt black thing. charred and melan-
choiy
"The plays the thing." said Bor-
desux suddenly. He had hardly spoken
Until the open firth was reached. and
the dawn relieved the tension. Speak
OF II, man. Let me not burst in ignor-
ance."
I stared at him. He laughed and
said:
Behold a man and a maid in a boat.
ard the lights of home beckoning in
vain. The man rescues the maid, or the
maid rescues the man, from the enemy
OF the enemy. Can both be enemies? I
am curious"
AS the boat sailed along through tn.
stfnging salt. I was glad to unload my
heart to this impartial stranger. / told
Gil tlldl u CdptlNlly
the Macdonalds, sparing nothing that
touched myself. He listened with inter-
est and, / think. a kindly approval. But
there was twinkle I'm his eyes when he
spoke at the end.
You did right, sir. but you acted
more like a martyr than a warrior. So
with many a buried hero" His voice
took on the declamatory tone of
banter. He meant well: he deserved
to be deserving, but, like Burbage when
he tripped upon a nail. his best scene
was turned TO pathos." He saw my
irritation, for he added: You are less
Of a savage than I have met In the
Hollands as yet. But you have not told
me what ] most desire to know" He
nodded toward the canopied nest In the
bow. who is that?" he asked alb
ruptly.
II am glad You asked I said. for II
brings me TO a question Of my own. For
what did ye seek the Spanish ship La
Trinidad? This lass is daughter o. the
Armada"
Bordeaux did not answer for some
time. After the prolonged silence.
turned 10 look at him. He was staring
at me. his face shining with surprise
and anticipation.
ITO be precise" he said. "she is the
daughter of Don John of Murcia. Am
/ right?'
Aye. Ye have it right" l said. won-