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Rh tion of it; but he had not expected that. None of those on Benjamin Corvet's list had had any knowledge of Alan Conrad or had heard the name before.

Alan was silent, watching the old man; Burr, silent too, seemed listening to the conversation which came to them from the tables near by, where men were talking of cargoes, and of ships and of men who worked and sailed upon them.

"How long have you been on the lakes?" Alan inquired.

"All my life." The question awakened reminiscence in the old man. "My father had a farm. I didn't like farming. The schooners—they were almost all schooners in those days—came in to load with lumber. When I was nine years old, I ran away and got on board a schooner. I've been at it, sail or steam, ever since."

"Do you remember the Miwaka?"

"The Miwaka?"

Old Burr turned abruptly and studied Alan with a slow scrutiny which seemed to look him through and through; yet while his eyes remained fixed on Alan suddenly they grew blank. He was not thinking now of Alan, but had turned his thoughts within himself.

"I remember her—yes. She was lost in '95," he said. "In '95," he repeated.

"You lost a nephew with her, didn't you?"

"A nephew—no. That is a mistake. I lost a brother."

"Where were you living then?"

"In Emmet County, Michigan."

"When did you move to Point Corbay, Ontario?"

"I never lived at Point Corbay."