"You keep a eye," he whispered, winking in a way most grave and
troubled, "on that there little mail-boat when she lands her
passengers."
"For what?" I asked.
"Brass buttons," says he.
'Twas now that the cat came out of the bag. Brass buttons? 'Twas the
same as saying constables. This extraordinary undertaking was then a
precaution against the accident of arrest. 'Twas inspired, no doubt,
by the temper of that gray visitor with whom my uncle had dealt over
the table in a fashion so surprising. I wondered again concerning that
amazing broil, but to no purpose; 'twas 'beyond my wisdom and
ingenuity to involve these opposite natures in a crime that might make
each tolerable to the other and advantage them both. 'Twas plain, at
any rate, that my uncle stood in jeopardy, and that of no trivial
sort: else never would he have employed his scant savings upon the
hull of the _Shining Light_. It grieved me to know it. 'Twas most sad
and most perplexing. 'Twas most aggravating, too: for I must put no
questions, but accept, in cheerful serenity, the revelations he would
indulge me with, and be content with that.
"An' if ye sees so much as a single brass button comin' ashore," says
he, "ye'll give me a hail, will ye not, whereever I is?"
This I would do.
"Ye never can tell," he added, sadly, "what's in the wind."
"I'm never allowed t' know," said I.
He was quick to catch the complaint. "Ye're growin' up, Dannie," he
observed; "isn't you, lad?"