contemporaries. out of himself. speak, and he has spoken it. So far he has increased in strength with every book, has grown more master of his own conceptions and himself. In "A Son of Hagar" he forced his story upon his reader in defiance of possibility, but no such blot on construction as the continued presence of a London cad in the person of a Cumberland man in the latter's native village has been seen in his more recent work. It is worth notice that even in this portion of his story the narrator shows no remotest sign of a disposition to crane at any of the numerous fences which lie before him. He takes them all in his stride, and the reader goes with him, willynilly, protesting perhaps, but helplessly whirled along in the author's grip. This faculty of daring is sometimes an essential to the story-teller's art, and Hall Caine has it in abundance, not merely in the occasional facing of improbabilities, but in that much loftier and more admirable form where it en

His work has grown He has had a word to

ables him to confront the cataclysmic emotions of the mind, and to carry to a legitimate conclusion scenes of tremendous conception and of no less tremendous difficulty. In the minds of vulgar and careless readers the defects which are hardest to separate from this form of art are so many added beauties, just as the over-emphasis of a tragic actor is the very thing which best appeals to the gallery. But Hall Caine does not address himself to the vulgar and the careless. He is eager to leave his reputation to his peers and to posterity. With every year of ripening power his capacity for self-restraint has grown. When it has come of age in him, there will be nothing but fair and well. There has been no man in his time who has shown a deeper reverence for his work, or a more consistent increase in command of it. His method is large and noble, in accord with his design. He has given us the right to look to him for better and better and always better, and it is only in the direction indicated that he can mend.

"GAM

`AMACHE! Gamache! I'm tired of hearing about this Gamache. He should have been clapped into prison long ago. One would think that he was a veritable demon or ogre instead of only a rascally wrecker, to judge by the way he is talked about here."

The speaker was an officer in one of Her Majesty's regiments stationed at Quebec, the place the deck of a sailing yacht carrying a lively party past the Island of Orleans, and the time half a century ago, when the sinister reputation of Anticosti and its few inhabitants was at its height.

66

A chorus of laughter and a shower of merry taunts were the response to Captain Hamilton's energetic utterance. "Certainly he should." "I quite agree with you." Why don't you try it yourself?" "Give Gamache a call on your own account." "You're just the man for the job," and so on, in spite of the Captain's manifest irritation.

He had the good sense, however, to attempt no retort until the pelting of chaff had spent itself, and then, before speaking, he gave a searching glance at the countenance of one who sat on the port side, and who had taken no part in the good-natured raillery. What he saw there evidently confirmed him in his resolution, for drawing himself up he said, in a quiet tone of unmistakable determination :

"I accept your challenge. If I can obtain the requisite authority I'll go down to Anticosti in this very yacht, and do my best to bring Gamache back with me.

fortunate as to survive his first rencontre with him.

When the Captain came to consider at leisure what he had undertaken in haste he felt disposed to set himself down as something not far short of a fool. Although he was quite fully of the opinion that the awe-inspiring reputation of Gamache had absurdly outgrown the actual truth, still, he admitted, it must have some root in fact, and the very vagueness of his knowledge could not help intensifying the uneasiness of his mind. Nevertheless, he had no thought of withdrawing. Even though his pride were not so deeply involved, there was the remembrance of that look for one instant caught on the face he deemed the fairest in all the world, but which seemed averse to his ardent suit.

There was no difficulty about obtaining the requisite authority to deal with Gamache, should he come advantageously upon him, and within a week he set forth upon his peculiar quest, feeling himself to be in some sort a modern knight errant. He took with him on the yacht a Gulf fisherman who was to act as crew and pilot, and a corporal's guard of stalwart soldiers in whom he could trust. Gamache was understood to live in solitude for the most part, and, despite all the startling stories in circulation about him, ought surely to prove an easy prey for four strong men whose outfit of deadly weapons was in every respect complete.

On the way down the St. Lawrence Jean Baptiste Houde, the pilot, regaled his fellow-voyagers with tales and legends about Gamache's extraordinary exploits and mysterious actions. In these wondrous yarns their hero figured as some kind of a semi-ogre, semisea-wolf who enjoyed the special friendship and protection of a familiar demon. If Houde's statements were to be ac

This speech evoked another round of genial banter, and the offering of odds that, instead of Captain Hamilton coming back with Gamache, a detachment of soldiers would have to be sent down to retrieve him from the hands of the renowned wrecker, should he be so

cepted, the wrecker had been seen to stand upright upon the gunwale of his sloop in a calm and command his demon to send him a breeze. A moment later the sails were straining on their sheets, and the sloop was bowling along merrily, though the sea all about her shone like a mirror, and other vessels lay motionless. During a run across to Rimouski he had entertained "Auld Hornie" himself in great style, and on more than one occasion, when closely pressed by a Government cutter bent on his capture, he and his sable sloop had suddenly vanished, leaving no trace save a blue flame that went dancing over the waves in mocking defiance of the awe-stricken minions of the law.

The pilot was an effective raconteur, and his startling stories produced a deep effect upon the two soldiers, although Captain Hamilton laughed them to scorn, and quite incensed their narrator by contemptuous references to the foolish credulity of the French Canadian.

"Eh! bien! muttered Houde, shaking his head solemnly, and gazing away down the river towards their destination. "You are very wise, no doubt, and very brave too, but, perhaps, you will be wiser still before you get back to Quebec. We shall see. We shall see."

As the yacht drew near Anticosti the weather, which had been favourable enough hitherto, began to assume a threatening aspect, and Houde, smelling a storm, advised running

across to the South Shore until it had blown over.

But Captain Hamilton, who was not weatherwise, suspecting that this was a pretence of the pilot's whereby he might, perhaps, evade a manifestly unwelcome task, would not hearken to the suggestion.

"No-No-Keep right on," he said sternly. "We can run into some haven in Anticosti for shelter if need be."

Houde shook his head, and muttered something that was not audible. He knew right well there was no harbour of refuge at that end of the island save

the one where Gamache had his headquarters, but he recognized the futility of argument.

The storm broke that afternoon, and raged so furiously that Captain Hamilton soon had cause to regret not having taken the pilot's sage advice. The yacht was a strong, staunch, seaworthy craft, and Houde handled her with extraordinary skill, yet her owner could not be blind to the fact that unless the violence of the tempest soon abated the little vessel must inevitably succumb. The bleak shores of Anticosti were dimly discernible on the left, and he asked anxiously as he pointed to them:

"Is there no safe harbour there into which you can run the sloop for the night?"

Houde smiled grimly. The imperious officer was now learning humility. He evidently regretted having put no faith in his pilot's words.

"There is but one, and that is Gamache's," he replied. "I am making for it now."

Captain Hamilton had laid out another plan of campaign. His idea was to run the sloop into some cove a little distance from Gamache's, and then to make his way overland to the latter's stronghold. In this way he would stand a better chance of effecting the arrest without bloodshed. But the storm had disarranged all this. Instead of coming down upon the unsuspecting wrecker in all the majesty of the law he must needs appear as a fugitive seeking refuge from the fury of the elements.

Darkness fell before the sought-for shelter opened out, and Houde began muttering "Aves" and fumbling his beads when he could spare his right hand for a moment.

The entrance to the cove was narrow and tortuous, and beset with serrated rocks ready to tear to pieces the stoutest ship afloat. For the sloop to touch one of them would mean her instant destruction.

There was no mistaking how critical Houde felt the situation to be. The pallor of fear showed through the

swarthy hue of his face, as with straining eyes he endeavoured to pierce the gloom ahead, whence came the roar of breakers hurling themselves upon the sullen reefs. The sails had been reefed to the last point, yet the mast creaked and bent as though its going by the board could be only the matter of another minute. The two soldiers lay stretched out on the dripping deck holding on for verv life's sake, while Captain Hamilton, his haggard

countenance

seeming ten years older than before the storm began, crouched near the pilot, his mind full of bitter regret that he had ever undertaken so foolish a quest.

JSO Higgins

DRAWN BY J. S. O'HIGGINS.

Presently the mad turmoil and hissing of the water all about them made it clear that they were amongst the reefs. Mechanically Captain Hamilton grasped the low combing of the cabin, and with bated breath awaited the coming shock. With wonderful skill, for it was almost pitch dark, the pilot evaded the expectant rocks.

But death was only playing with its victims. No mortal steersman could ever have run the gauntlet of those cruel reefs. The little sloop fought gallantly, obeying her helm like a thing of life; but the end was inevitable.

With a splintering crash her bow smashed like an egg-shell on a halfsubmerged reef, and the next instant all four men were struggling in the yeasty surges.

Captain Hamilton possessed great strength and was an expert swimmer. He was not one to yield up his life without first making a brave fight for it. He battled desperately with the billows, striving to work away from the rocks and into the central channel. In this, by some marvellous good fortune he succeeded, but the efforts ex

hausted his strength, and while still out in the wild welter of the surges his consciousness forsook him.

When he came to himself he was lying on a comfortable bed, feeling strangely weak and sorely bruised. There was no one in the room, and as his eyes roved inquiringly around the place they fell upon an array of weapons worthy of an arsenal. Arranged in racks in orderly fashion stood nearly a score of guns, many of them doublebarrelled, while beside them hung powder-flasks, shot-bags, swords, sabres, daggers, bayonets and pistols in most imposing profusion. The room itself resembled a chamber in a fortress, the walls being evidently of great strength and thickness, and the window being strongly barred and shuttered.

As he gazed about him with wondering eyes there came into the room a man whose remarkable appearance was quite in keeping with his surroundings. He stood full six feet in height, and although his abundant hair and beard were snowy white, his form was as erect and vigourous as if he had been no older than the Captain. His eyes, deep-sunk beneath the shaggy brows, flashed forth with piercing power, and his features bore a look of mingled sorrow and sternness that commanded instant interest and respect.

"Eh, bien!" he said, in a deep yet kindly voice. "You have awakened. That is good! You were not far from taking the sleep from which there is no awaking in this world."

"You saved my life, no doubt," responded Captain Hamilton, speaking with difficulty. "May I know to whom I am so profoundly indebted?"

The other shrugged his shoulders, and the shadow of a smile flitted over his grim features.

"Yes, certainly; I am Gamache." Although he had expected this reply, the Captain could not repress a start. He was the involuntary and helpless guest of the man he had come to take into custody in the name of the law.

"And the others?" he asked anxiously, "Did you save them, too?"

"There were no others" was the

brief, solemn reply. "You were alone."

The Captain buried his face in the pillow to stifle the groan he could not

suppress.

Poor Houde! And the two faithful soldiers! They had been sacrificed to the fulfilment of a foolish pledge which, by the very irony of fate, had of itself become impracticable.

It was many days before he regained his wonted strength. The breakers and reefs of Anticosti had taken heavy toll off him, and under less skilful or devoted care than that of Gamache he would hardly have survived their merciless buffeting.

While winning his way back to health and vigour he came to entertain such feelings towards Gamache as he would have deemed utterly impossible a little while before. At the first opportunity he frankly confessed the object of his mission, Gamache listening with an expression that signified:

"I knew it already."

Mutual confidence being thus established, the two men conversed freely, and Captain Hamilton soon realized that the sinister side of the wrecker's character had been greatly exaggerated. Wishing to be left in undisturbed enjoyment of the advantages of his position for gathering the flotsam and jetsam of the stormy Gulf he had not only allowed the wild stories about himself to go uncontradicted, but had even taken pains to add to them, delighting especially in giving support to his supposed friendly relations with his Satanic Majesty.

Thus he related with great gusto how he would go to a country inn, order a fine supper for two to be served in a private room, stating that he expected a gentleman in black to share it with him. When the repast was ready he would lock himself up in the room, polish off the supper unaided, using both plates, etc., and then summon the astonished landlady to clear away the remains, as he and his friend had supped, and were satisfied. The effect of this mystifying performance he would deepen by sundry startling rap