Evening star., 1924-09-28
Continued from Yesterdays Starr

Mr.. Curral rode at the tail of the
That silly little fool of Carmichael
had bungled the haul of the year, but
he didn't expect the collector would
believe it. He was sure to get the
blame. He and his poacher had cap
tured two horses to have them taken
from them by the troopers, the tubs
broached and the horses let go. Dra-
goons! They had known what disci-
pline was in the Horse Guards. 1t
was too late to go to Bosula or the
gypsy camp now. All tracks would
have been covered up-no evidence.
The prisoners had by this time
dWindled to a solitary youth, whom
Curral suspected of being a half-wit
and who would most assuredly be ac-
quilted by Cornish jury. He sighed
and sucked the head of his whip 1t
was hard life.
Phineas Eva, parish clerk of st.
Gwithian, came to call on Teresa one
afternoon shortly after the catas-
trophe. He was dressed in his best,
which was not very good, but signi-
ned that 1t was visit of Importance.
He twfttered some platitudes about
the weather, local and foreign affairs.
The American colonists were on the
point of armed rebellion, he was
creditably informed. Tut, tut, But
meeting with no encouragement from
his hostess, he dwindled into silence
and sat perched on the edge of the
settle, blinking his pale eyes and
tWitching his hat in his rheumatic
claws. Teresa seemed unaware of
his presence. She crouched notion
less in her chair. chin propped on
knuckles, a somber brooding figure.
Phineas noted that her checks and
eyelids were swollen. her raven hair
hanging in untidy coils. and feared
she had been roistering again. If SO,
she would be in an evil mood She
was big, strong woman; he small
weak man. He trembled for his skin.
Still. he must out with it somehow,
come what might. There was his
wife to face at the other end, and he
was no less terrified of his wife: He
must out with it. OF the two it is
better to propitiate the devil YOU live
| with than the devil you don't He
hummed and hawed. squirmed on his
perch, and then, with a gulp and
splutter, came out with it.
His daughter Tamsin was in trou-
BILE. and Ortho was the cause. He
had to repeat himself twice before
Teresa would take any notice, and
then all she did was to nod her head
neither sworn nor pounced at him.
He spoke his piece. Of course. Orths
would do the right thing by Tamsin.
She was good girl, a very good girl,
doCile and domestic, would make him
an excellent wife. Ortho was under
cloud at present, but that would blow
over-king Nick had powerful infiu-
ence and stood by his own Parson
Coverdale of St. Just was always
friendly to the Free Traders. He
would marry them without question.
He understood Ortho was in hiding
among the st. Just timers. 1t would
be most convenient. He Teresa
shook her head slowly.
Not a st. Just. Then he had been
blown over to Scilly after all Oh,
we'll as soon as he could get back
Parson Coverdalc would
Again Teresa shook her head
Not at Scilly, Then where was he?
Up country?
Teresa rose out of her chair and
looked Phineas full in the face, stood
over him, hair hanging loose, puffy,
obese yet withal majestic, tragic be-
yond words. Something in her swol-
| len eyes made him quail, but not for
| his own skin. not for himself.
"A Fowey Newfoundlander put into
Newlyn Pools morning" she said,
and her voice had a husky burr
Ten leagues sou'west of the Bishop
they found the Gamecock of Monks
Cove-bottom up"
Phineas gripped the edge of
the settle and sagged forward.
Then ="
Yes" said Teresa. Drowned. Go
home and tell that to your daughter.
An tell her she've got next to her
heart the only li'l' livin' spark of my
lovely boy that's left in this world.
She'm luckier nor T.
CHAPTER XVIII.
But Ortho was not drowned. Dawn
| found the Ganecock still af1oat still
scudding like mad thing in the run of
| the seas. There was no definite dawn,
no visible uprising of the sun: black
| night slowly changed into leaden day,
that was ALL
Ortho looked around him. There was
nothing to be seen but a toss of waters,
breakers rushing foam-lipped before,
beside him, roaring in his wake. The
boat might have been a hind racing
among a pack of wild hounds intent on
overwhelming her and dragging her un-
der. There was nothing in sight. He
had missed the Settles altogether, as
he had long suspected.
After passing the Runnelstone he had
kept his eyes skinned for the coal-fire
beacon on St. Agnes Cthe sole light on
| the islands). but not a flicker of it had
| he seen. He must have passed the
wrong side of the Wolf and have missed
| the mark by miles and miles AS far
as he could get his direction by dawn,
| the wind had gone back, and he was
| running due south now. South-whither?
| He did not know and cared little.
Anson was dead, sitting up, wedged
| in the angle of the bows. He had died