No pistol practice to-day.

Your hands will be unsteady." "Always the way!" I heard Bob Chowne grumble.

"I stopped on purpose to have a bit of pistol-shooting, and now there's none.

See if I'd have stayed if I had known." I had to run to the door of the great stone-built counting-house and receive the swords as the men filed up, and for the next ten minutes I was busy hanging all in their places.
When I had finished the men had all gone back to their work, and after a look round, my father said a few words to a big black-looking Cornishman, who had lately been selected as foreman from his experience about mines, locked up the counting-house, and turned to us.
"Now, boys," he said, "we'll go back to the boat." Bob Chowne's lips parted to say that he could not stop; but he had not the heart to speak the words, and we went back to the beach, to enter upon an adventure that proved rather startling to us all, and had a sequel that was more startling, and perhaps more unpleasant still..