in the direction of the muskets, and although she could not see them,
the thought that they were there gave her some comfort.

Standing where she was it was impossible to hear plainly, so stepping
to the door, she put her ear down close to a crack through which the
light was streaming. She listened intently to all that was taking
place, although at first it was difficult to make out any sense from
the babel of voices. Occasionally she could hear Norman's voice urging
the men to be quiet or to leave the house. That the visitors had found
the rum was quite evident, for she could hear them dipping the mug into
the liquor, followed by expressions of satisfaction.

"Dat's good rum, chief," she heard one say. "Where you get it, eh?"

"Where it all comes from, of course," Norman sternly replied. "You
must not drink too much of it."

"Oh, it'll take more'n dat to knock me out."

"Don't be too sure of that. The mast-cutters are no babies, and you'll
need to be in good condition when you meet them."

"I don't care for no damn mast-cutters. Rum's my best friend when I
fight dem."

"Hear, hear!" another shouted. "Good fer you, Jerry! We're with you
on that. Rum puts hell into us, an' makes us fight like the devil."

"But the mast-cutters can fight, too," Norman reminded. "They are well
armed, remember."