"What of them, fool?" cried the founder, excitedly.

"Drowned, master--in the Pool, and they're bringing their bodies now ashore!"

Volume 2, Chapter III.

HOW WAT KILBY LED THE WAY.

In his excitement the founder hastily laid Mace on the couch and rushed out, when Sir Mark was about to run to the poor girl's side, to seize his opportunity, and press his lips to hers, but he was forestalled by Janet, who, with flashing eyes, leaped between them to cry spitefully, "Nay; and if thou must kiss aught, kiss me. Thou can'st not want to kiss two maidens in one day."

With an angry ejaculation Sir Mark turned aside and followed the founder, who was running along the side of the Pool to where a group of his people were busy round a boat just drawn up close to the edge, with Father Brisdone and Master Peasegood in the midst, giving directions to the men who were lifting a couple of bodies towards a shed half-filled with soft dogwood charcoal.

For it had been an awkward night with Gil Carr and his companion.

They had plunged boldly into the Pool, finding it at the side come up to mid-thigh, and the bottom sandy; but before they had cautiously proceeded far, taking care that the water did not splash, it became shallower, and Gil asked old Wat in a whisper whether they were not too near the shore.

"No," was the reply; "I know the Pool well; this shallow runs right across. I've seen the shoals of little fish sunning themselves here by the thousand till some evil-minded pirate of a luce has darted amongst them and scattered them like a silver fleet in the Spanish main. You follow me, skipper, and let me lead thee for once in thy life."

"You were disobeying my orders, Wat," said Gil, in a low whisper, as he followed his lieutenant. "What were you doing in Master Cobbe's garden?"

"Courting. Thank God for the ability to court!" growled Wat.

"You dare to own it to my face!"

"Nay, thou'rt behind my back," growled Wat; "but I own it all the same.

Where would'st have been if I had not said to myself, 'there's that pretty little soul Janet longing to see me once again, and as it's loving--night, and the skipper's courting the mistress, faith I'll go and court the maid?'"

"After I had forbidden it, Wat!"

"I am a man, all a man, good Captain Gilbert Carr, and I say thank God for the ability to love, and liking to taste sweet lips."

"Thou arrant old coxcomb," cried Gil, angrily. "Why thou art woman mad!"

"I am, thank God!" said Wat. "Hah, skipper, what would the world be without women? Bless their bright eyes, and red lips, and pretty prattling tongues--mind that hole, it's a bit deeper--I don't know whether I love best to be kissed or pooked by them."

"You old fool!"

"Ay, to be sure, skipper, it's a man's nature to be a fool over a woman.

It's nature's remedy to keep us from being too wise. As I was saying, I don't know which I like best. If she kisses and fondles you without a kick, why it's all sweet sugar and milk and honey, and I smack my lips.

If she cries 'kiss me not, old bear,' and struggles and pooks me, and pretends to tear out my eyes with the ends of her pretty fingers, and tugs my beard, and pulls out the hairs, why it is pickles and sharp sorrel-sauce, and hot peppers, and I smack my lips and like it all the same. Ah, skipper, take all the women out of the world, and you may heave me overboard whenever you like!"

"Women will be thy ruin," said Gil.

"That's what Mas' Peasegood says, and then he went on at me for an hour as good as to say if ever I'm damned it will be for a woman's sake, bless her for it. Mind, here's another hole here. Zooks, I touched a big eel with my boot."

"But once for all," said Gil, "I will not have thee hanging like a chicken-thief about Master Cobbe's garden."

"An' where would'st have been if I had not been here to-night, skipper?

Suppose the founder had come running at thee with his naked sword? The sight of a naked sword always was too much for thee, my lad. Remember how I taught thee to fence, and you pook me your point the second time into my thigh. Why, it would have been out sword and at him, and thou mightest have hurt the old boy."

"Old boy! He's fifteen years younger than you if a day, Wat."

"Bah! Years! What are years? He was born after I was, but look at us.

I'm a younger man than he. A man's not old till he feels old, skipper; and when he feels old heave him overboard if he be a sailor. If he be a land-goer, dig a hole in his mother-earth and pack him up warm to sprout out and grow little boys for the future times. Well, as I said, suppose you had pricked the old man or he had pricked thee?"

"The better for me it seems," said Gil, grimly. "It would be the high road to his favour. But are you sure you are right here? How dark it is!"

"Right? to be sure I am," growled Wat; "right as I was to-night in having a bit of a talk with pretty Janet, lad."

"And that I forbid for the future," said Gil, stopping with the water nearly up to his waist.

"Forbid away," grumbled Wat, "but as long as my skipper goes amongst rocks Wat Kilby goes as well to watch over him the while."

"Then that settles it, Wat," said Gil; "I am going no more."

"Ho, ho, ho!--ho, ho, ho!" chuckled the old sailor. "Sattles! What?

have you and young mistress fallen out?"

"Hold your peace!" said Gil, sharply; "and learn to obey my orders."

"Saints on earth, I'm like so much wax or Stockholm pitch in his hands, and he does with me as he likes. It's a brave deal deeper here than I thought, skipper; wait till I have out my blade and feel my way a bit."

He pulled out his sword, and began to sound with it in the darkness; but, save in the direction of the house and garden, the water seemed to grow deeper and deeper; and, after taking a step or two in different directions, the old fellow drew back and paused grumbling.

"It's deeper than I thought," he said; "the water goes down above my head everywhere. Let's wait a bit."

"What for?" said Gil, angrily. "Do you think the Pool will grow shallower? This comes of trusting another."

"Well, I thought I knowed the bearings," said Wat.

"What fools we'd look if it were daylight," said Gil; "standing up to our middles."

"Chesties," said Wat, correctively.

"Well, to our chests or chins, if you like," cried Gil. "Heaven be praised that it is so dark."

"So don't say I," cried Wat, softly; "for if it was not so dark I could see which way to steer."

"Do you mean to tell me, Wat," whispered Gil, in a low angry voice, "that you have persuaded me into trusting to your guidance, and that now you know nothing of the depth of the Pool?"

"I could have sworn as that little sandy reef ran right across to the other side."

"And now there is deep water all round."

"Unless we go back."

"Confusion!" ejaculated Gil. "Am I to understand that you don't know the way at all?"

"Well, skipper," growled Wat, "I won't say I don't know the bearings of the channels; but if you like to take the rudder I'll give up to you."