that, Kisseck, if I hadn't been a weak fool with you. It's a true saying that when you tell your servant your secret you make him your master."
Then Kisseck altered his manner and became suave.
"What's to be done?" said Christian, irritated at some humiliating compliments.
"I've somethin' terrible fine up here," said Kisseck, tapping his forehead mysteriously. Christian smiled rather doubtfully.
"It'll get you out of this shoal water, anyhow," said the skipper.
"What is it?" asked Christian.
"The tack we've been on lately isn't worth workin'. It isn't what it was in the good ould days, when the Frenchmen and the Dutchmen came along with the Injin and Chinee goods, and we just run along-side in wherries and whipped them up. Too many hands at the trade now."
"So, smuggling, like everything else, has gone to the dogs," said Christian, with another grim smile.
"But I've a big consarn on now," whispered Kisseck.
"What?"
"Och, a shockin' powerful skame! Listen!"
And Kisseck whispered again in Christian's ear, but the words escaped Danny.
"No, no, that'll not do," said Christian, emphatically.
"Aw, and why not at all?"
"Why not? Why not? Because it's murder, nothing less."
"Now, what's the use of sayin' the lek o' that. Aw,
