The sailors were still sitting on the log, gazing at each other in amazement and awe.

Neither had spoken throughout the duel, nor did they speak now.

The victor did not look back, but walked swiftly toward the north, glad that he had been the instrument in the hands of fate to give to the slaver at least a part of the punishment due him.
He kept steadily on several hours, until he saw a smoke on the western sky, when he changed his course and came in another half hour to a small log house, from which the smoke arose.

A man standing on the wooden step looked at him with all the curiosity to which he had a right.
"Friend," said Robert, "how far is it to New York ?" "About ten miles." "And this is not the coast of Acadia." "Acadia! What country is that?
I never heard of it." "It exists, but never mind.

And New York is so near?
Tell me that distance again.