"This is the first time we have had any bother, and I don't see why we should give such a jolly place up just because that thick-headed old Lobster came watching us." "Ah! but that isn't all," said Vince.

"We can't go down there any more, on account of the smugglers." "But I don't believe you are right.

Those things looked new, I know; but they must be as old as old, for if any smuggling had been going on here we must have seen or heard of it." "But the sand--the sand! Those footprints must be new." "I don't see it," said Mike, rather stubbornly.

"Because the wind blows into one cave and drifts the light sand all over, that's no reason why it should do so in another cave, which may be regularly sheltered." "It's no good to argue with you," said Vince sourly, for he was weary and put out.

"You can have it your own way, only I tell you this,-- smugglers don't stand any nonsense; they'll shoot at any one who tries to stop them or find out where they land cargoes, and we should look nice if they suddenly came upon us." "People don't come suddenly on you when they've been dead a hundred years," replied Mike.