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      It was beginning to be light, not daylight, but a sort of ghost-light that you could hardly believe was the beginning of sunshine, and the sky being blue again instead of black.

      The hated coastguard got impatient. He said—

      "You'd best own up. It'll be the better for you. It's bound to come out, along of the fish. I know it's there. We've had private information up at the station. The game's up this time, so don't you make no mistake."

      Mr. Benenden and the Viking and the boy looked at each other.

      "An' what might your precious private information have been about?" asked Mr. Benenden.

      "Brandy," replied the coastguard Stokes, and he went and got on to the gunwale. "And what's more, I can smell it from here."

      Oswald and Dicky drew near, and the refreshment-room smell was stronger than ever. And a brown corner of the keg was peeping out.

      "There you are!" cried the Loathed One. "Let's have that gentleman out, if you please, and then you'll all just come alonger me."

      Remarking, with a shrug of the shoulders, that he supposed it was all up, our Viking scattered the fish that hid the barrel, and hoisted it out from its scaly bed.

      "That's about the size of it," said the coastguard we did not like. "Where's the rest?"

      "That's all," said Mr. Benenden. "We're poor men, and we has to act according to our means."

      "We'll see the boat clear to her last timber, if you've no objections," said the Detestable One.

      I could see that our gallant crew were prepared to go through with the business. More and more of the coastguards were collecting, and I understood that what the crew wanted was to go up to the coastguard station with that keg of pretending brandy, and involve the whole of the coastguards of Longbeach in one complete and perfect sell.

      But Dicky was sick of the entire business. He really has not the proper soul for adventures, and what soul he has had been damped by what he had gone through.

      So he said, "Look here, there's nothing in that keg but water."

      Oswald could have kicked him, though he is his brother.

      "Huh!" replied the Unloved One, "d'you think I haven't got a nose? Why, it's oozing out of the bunghole now as strong as Samson."

      "Open it and see," said Dicky, disregarding Oswald's whispered instructions to him to shut up. "It is water."

      "What do you suppose I suppose you want to get water from the other side for, you young duffer!" replied the brutal official. "There's plenty water and to spare this side."

      "It's—it's French water," replied Dicky madly; "it's ours, my brother's and mine. We asked these sailors to get it for us."

      "Sailors, indeed!" said the hateful coastguard. "You come along with me."

      And our Viking said he was something or othered. But Benenden whispered to him in a low voice that it was all right—time was up. No one heard this but me and the Viking.

      "I want to go home," said Dicky. "I don't want to come along with you."

      "What did you want water for?" was asked. "To try it?"

      "To stand you a drink next time you ordered us off your beastly boat," said Dicky. And Oswald rejoiced to hear the roar of laughter that responded to this fortunate piece of cheek.

      I suppose Dicky's face was so angel-like, innocent-looking, like stowaways in books, that they had to believe him. Oswald told him so afterwards, and Dicky hit out.

      Any way, the keg was broached, and sure enough it was water, and sea-water at that, as the Unamiable One said when he had tasted it out of a tin cup, for nothing else would convince him. "But I smell brandy still," he said, wiping his mouth after the sea-water.

      Our Viking slowly drew a good-sized flat labelled bottle out of the front of his jersey.

      "From the 'Old Ship,'" he said gently. "I may have spilt a drop or two here or there over the keg, my hand not being very steady, as is well known, owing to spells of marsh fever as comes over me every six weeks to the day."

      The coastguard that we never could bear said, "Marsh fever be something or othered," and his comrades said the same. But they all blamed him, and we were glad.

      We went home sleepy, but rejoicing. The whole thing was as complete a sell as ever I wish to see.

       SURE ENOUGH IT WAS SEA-WATER, AS THE UNAMIABLE ONE SAID WHEN HE HAD TASTED IT.

      Of course we told our own dear and respected Lymchurch coastguards, and I think they may be trusted not to let it down on the Longbeach coastguards for many a good day. If their memories get bad I think there will always be plenty of people along that coast to remind them!

      So that's all right.

      When we had told the girls all, and borne their reproaches for not telling them before, we decided to give the Viking five bob for the game way he had played up.

      So we did. He would not take it at first, but when we said, "Do—you might buy a pig with it, and call it Stokes after that coastguard," he could no longer resist, and accepted our friendly gift.

      We talked with him for a bit, and when we were going we thanked him for being so jolly, and helping us to plant out the repulsive coastguard so thoroughly.

      Then he said, "Don't mention it. Did you tell your little gells what you was up to?"

      "No," said Oswald, "not till afterwards."

      "Then you can hold your tongues. Well, since you've acted so handsome about that there pig, what's to be named for Stokes, I don't mind if I tells you something. Only mum's the word."

      We said we were quite sure it was.

      "Well, then," said he, leaning over the pig-stye wall, and rubbing the spotted pig's back with his stick. "It's an ill wind that blows no good to nobody. You see, that night there was a little bird went an' whispered to 'em up at Longbeach about our little bit of a keg. So when we landed they was there."

      "Of course," said Oswald.

      "Well, if they was there they couldn't be somewheres else, could they?"

      We owned they could not.

      "I shouldn't wonder," he went on, "but what a bit of a cargo was run that night further up the beach: something as wasn't sea-water. I don't say it was so, mind—and mind you don't go for to say it."

      Then we understood that there is a little smuggling done still, and that we had helped in it, though quite without knowing.

      We were jolly glad. Afterwards, when we had had that talk with Father, when he told us that the laws are made by the English people, and it is dishonourable for an Englishman not to stick to them, we saw that smuggling must be wrong.

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