animals that hunted us; but in all my fancies nothing occurred to me so strange and tragic as our actual adventures.
So the weeks passed on, till one fine day there came a letter addressed to Doctor Livesey, with this addition, "To be opened in the case of his absence, by Tom Redruth or Young Hawkins." Obeying this order, we found, or rather I found—for the gamekeeper was a poor hand at reading anything but print—the following important news:
"Dear Livesey: As I do not know whether you are at the Hall or still in London, I send this in double to both places. "The ship is bought and fitted. She lies at anchor, ready for sea. You never imagined a sweeter schooner—a child might sail her—two hundred tons; name, Hispaniola.
"I got her through my old friend, Blandly, who has proved himself throughout the most surprising trump. The admirable fellow literally slaved in my interest, and so, I may say, did every one in Bristol, as soon as they got wind of the port we sailed for—treasure, I mean—"
"Redruth," said I, interrupting the letter, "Doctor Livesey will not like that. The squire has been talking, after all."
"Well, who's got a better right?"' growled the game-
