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Title: Reuben Stone's discovery

or, The young miller of Torrent Bend

Author: Edward Stratemeyer

Release date: August 6, 2024 [eBook #74197]

Language: English

Original publication: Boston: Lee and Shepard Publishers, 1895

Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/74197

Credits: Produced by Donald Cummings and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK REUBEN STONE'S DISCOVERY ***

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- THE LAST CRUISE OF THE SPITFIRE.

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- REUBEN STONE’S DISCOVERY.

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REUBEN STONE’S DISCOVERY

OR

The Young Miller of Torrent Bend

BY

EDWARD STRATEMEYER

AUTHOR OF “UNDER DEWEY AT MANILA,” “A YOUNG VOLUNTEER IN CUBA,”

“FIGHTING IN CUBAN WATERS,” “THE LAST CRUISE OF THE SPITFIRE,”

“RICHARD DARE’S VENTURE,” “OLIVER BRIGHT’S SEARCH,”

ETC., ETC.

ILLUSTRATED

BOSTON

LEE AND SHEPARD PUBLISHERS

COPYRIGHT, 1895,

BY THE MERRIAM COMPANY.

COPYRIGHT, 1900, BY LEE AND SHEPARD.

All Rights Reserved.

REUBEN STONE’S DISCOVERY.

Norwood Press

J. S. Cushing & Co.—Berwick & Smith

Norwood Mass. U.S.A.

PREFACE TO THE REVISED EDITION.

“Reuben Stone’s Discovery” forms the second volume in the “Ship and Shore” Series. It tells, in a matter-of-fact way, of the exploits of a young miller who is left in charge of his father’s property while the parent goes West to seek a more promising field for business. A great number of things happen while the youth is thus left to himself, and he is made to believe several stories concerning his absent parent and the mill property which cause him great uneasiness in mind. Suspicious at last that all is not right, Reuben starts out on a tour of investigation which places him in more than one position of peril. But the lad never falters, knowing he is doing what is right, and his triumph at the end is fairly earned.

Reuben tells his own story, and does it in his own peculiar way. Perhaps this method may not be altogether satisfactory to older heads; but the success of the first edition of the book had demonstrated the fact that it is satisfactory to the boys, and it was for these that the story was set to paper. If Reuben does some astonishing things throughout the course of the story, it must be remembered that the lad was acting largely in his father’s place, and that the world moves and boys of to-day are full of energy.

EDWARD STRATEMEYER.

NEWARK, N.J.,

June 1, 1899.

CONTENTS.

CHAPTER

PAGE

I.

T HE YOUNG MILLER

7

II.

A T THE BANK

16

III.

B AD NEWS

26

IV.

M R. ENOS NORTON

33

V.

H OT WORDS

42

VI.

A T ROCK ISLAND

51

VII.

A  PITCHED BATTLE

62

VIII.

A  BLOW FROM BEHIND

69

IX.

T HE TWO STRANGERS

77

X.

A  SURPRISE

85

XI.

M R. NORTON’S MOVE

93

XII.

A  MIDNIGHT CRIME

100

XIII.

A T SQUIRE SLOCUM’S HOUSE

108

XIV.

M R. NORTON’S STATEMENT

116

XV.

S OME FACTS IN THE CASE

124

XVI.

A  FRIEND IN NEED

133

XVII.

B ACK TO THE MILL

140

XVIII.

A  MOMENT OF EXCITEMENT

149

XIX.

L IVELY WORK

157

XX.

W E MAKE A PRISONER

165

XXI.

A  STORM ON THE LAKE

173

XXII.

A N INTERESTING CONVERSATION

182

XXIII.

C APTURED

190

XXIV.

I N THE WOODS

198

XXV.

A  MIRACULOUS ESCAPE

204

XXVI.

T HE CHASE

212

XXVII.

A T THE DEPOT

218

XXVIII.

T HE PURSUIT BECOMES PERILOUS

224

XXIX.

M R. NORTON’S ACCUSATION

230

XXX.

N ORTON BIXBY

237

XXXI.

A  LUCKY FIND

243

XXXII.

A  WELCOME ARRIVAL

249

XXXIII.

A  HAPPY ENDING

254

REUBEN STONE’S DISCOVERY.

CHAPTER I.

THE YOUNG MILLER.

“It ain’t no use to talk, Rube, that bill has got to be paid.” Mr. James Jackson brought his fist down on the little desk in one corner of the mill with such force that everything jumped. “I’ve waited for it till I’m all out of patience, and now I want my money.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Jackson,” I replied, “very sorry indeed to keep you waiting; but it cannot be helped. Business has been backward this summer, as you know, and money is tight.”

“It never was tight when your father was here,” growled the principal storekeeper of Torrent Bend, as he strode up and down the whitened floor. “Every bill was paid on the spot.”

“That is true, sir; but father knew the business was getting poorer every day, and that is the reason he left to see if he couldn’t locate in some place in the West.”

“Might better have stayed here and tended to this place, and not let his son run it into the ground.”

“I am not running the business into the ground,” I cried, with some show of spirit, because I thought the assertion an unfair one. “I do all the grinding that comes in, and even go over to Bayport and down to Sander’s Point in the boat to get it.”

“Pooh! don’t tell me! Young men around here don’t amount to much! But that ain’t here or there. I came for that money.”

“I will see if I can pay it to-day. I have a load of middlings to take over to Mr. Carnet this morning, and if he pays me I will come right down to the Bend and settle up.”

“And if he don’t pay?”

“I trust he does.”

“Well, pay or not, I’ve got to have my money, and that’s all there is to it. You can’t have any more goods till you square accounts.”

And having thus delivered himself, Mr. Jackson stamped out of the mill, jumped into his buckboard, and drove off for the village.

He did not leave me in a very happy state of mind. I was in sole charge of the mill, and I was finding it hard work to make everything run smoothly.

Two months before, my father had departed for the West, with a view to locating a new mill in any spot that might promise well. Affairs in Torrent Bend were nearly at a standstill, with no prospect of improving.

I was but sixteen years old, but I had been born and raised in the mill, and I understood the business fully as well as the average miller.

I ground out all the wheat, corn, rye, and buckwheat that came to hand, took my portion of the same and disposed of it to the best advantage. In addition to this I used up all my spare time in drumming up trade; and what more could any one do?

With the exception of my father, and an uncle whom I had never seen, I was alone in the world. My mother had died four years before, while I was still attending the district school, and two years later my twin sisters had followed her.

These deaths had been a severe blow to both my father and myself. To me my mother had been all that such a kind and loving parent can be, and my sisters had been my only playmates.

My father and I were not left long to mourn. There were heavy bills to be met, and we worked night and day to get out of debt.

At length came the time when all was free and clear, and we were nearly two hundred dollars ahead. Then my father got it into his mind that he could do better in some new Western place; and he left to be gone at least three months.

For a time all worked smoothly. I had for a helper a young man named Daniel Ford, a hearty, whole-souled fellow, and we got along splendidly together; but one night an accident happened.

The raceway to the mill was an old one, and a heavy rain-storm increased the volume of water to such an extent that it was partly carried away. I had the damage repaired at once; but the cost was such that it threw us once more into debt, and made it necessary for me to purchase groceries from Mr. Jackson on credit.

This I hated to do, knowing well the mean spirit of the man. But his store was the only one on this side of Rock Island Lake where my father was in the habit of purchasing, and I had to submit.

“Humph! seems to me old Jackson is mighty sharp after his money,” observed Ford, who was at work in the mill, and had overheard our conversation.

“If Mr. Carnet pays up I won’t keep him waiting.” I replied. “I suppose he’s entitled to his money.”

“If I was in your place I’d make him wait. I wouldn’t take any such talk without making him suffer for it. Do you want to load these bags on the boat now?”

“Yes; sixteen of them.”

Getting out the wheelbarrow, the young fellow piled it high with the bags of middlings, and carted them down to the sloop that was tied to the wharf that jutted out into the lake. It was only a short distance, and the job was soon finished.

“Now I’m off,” I said, as I prepared to leave. “You know what to do if anything comes in while I’m gone.”

“Oh, yes.”

“And in the meanwhile you can get that flour ready for Jerry Moore.”

“I will.”

I jumped aboard the sloop, unfastened the painter, hoisted the mainsail, and stood out for the other shore. A stiff breeze was blowing, and I was soon well underway.

Rock Island Lake was a beautiful sheet of water, four miles wide by twelve long. Near its upper end was a large island covered with rough rocks, bushes, and immense pine-trees. On one side of it was the thriving town of Bayport; and opposite, the village of Bend Center, situated a mile below the Torrent Bend River, which emptied into the lake at the spot where my father had located his mill.

The two resident places were in sharp contrast to each other. Bend Center was a sleepy spot that had not increased in population for twenty years, while Bayport, which had been settled but fifteen years, was all life and activity.

Among the attractions at the latter place were three large summer hotels, now crowded with boarders. The hotels were built upon the edge of the lake, and boats on fishing and pleasure trips were to be seen in all directions.

On this bright morning in midsummer the scene was a pretty one, and had I felt in the humor I could have enjoyed it thoroughly.

But I was out of sorts. As I have said, I was doing my best to pay off what bills were due; and to have Mr. Jackson, or, in fact, any one, insinuate that I didn’t amount to much, and that my father had made a mistake in trusting the business to me, cut me to the heart.

I was but a boy, yet I was doing a man’s work, and doing it as manfully as I knew how. I arose every morning at five o’clock, and sometimes worked until long after sundown.

I kept a strict account of what came in and went out; and looking at the account-book now, I am satisfied that I did as well as any one could have done under the circumstances.

The work around the mill was hard, but I never complained. I did fully as much as Ford, and if at night my back ached as it never had before, no one ever heard me mention it, and I was always ready for work on the following morning.

During the two months that had passed I had received but three letters from my father. He was out in South Dakota, and had not yet been able to locate to his satisfaction. In his last communication he had written that he was about to take a journey to the north, and that I need not expect to hear from him for two weeks or more.

This was somewhat of a disappointment; yet I trusted the trip he was about to undertake would be a fruitful one. The whole West was booming, and why could we not participate in the fortunes to be made?

As the sloop sped on its way I revolved the matter over in my mind. So busy did I become with my thoughts, I did not notice the freshening of the wind until a sudden puff caught the mainsail, and nearly threw the craft over on her side.

Springing up, I lowered the sheet, and then looked to see if the cargo was still safe.

Luckily Ford had placed the bags tight up near the cuddy, and not one had shifted. Seeing this, I ran the sail up again, trimmed it, and stood on my course.

As I did so I saw a large sloop not a great distance ahead of me. It had all sails set, and was bowling along at a lively rate.

I became interested in the large sloop at once. By the manner in which she moved along I was certain those in charge of her did not understand the handling of such a craft. The mainsail and jib were set full, and the boom of the former was sweeping violently in the puffs of wind.

“On board the sloop!” I called out. “Why don’t you take in some sail?”

“We can’t!” came back the answer. “The ropes are all stuck fast.”

By this time I had come up to starboard of them. I saw that there were two men, a woman, and a little boy on board.

The two men were trying in vain to lower the sails. They had evidently knotted the ropes when tying them, and now they were so taut nothing could be undone.

“What shall we do?” called the elder of the two men.

“If you can’t untie the knots, cut the rope,” I called back, “and don’t lose any time about it.”

One of the men immediately started to follow out my suggestion. I saw him draw out his pocket-knife, open the blade, and begin to saw on the rope.

The next instant another puff of wind, stronger than any of the others, came sweeping down the lake. I was prepared for it, and sheered off to windward.

But the puff caught the large sloop directly broadside. The mainsheet and the jib filled, then the craft careened, and before I could realize what was happening, the four occupants were sent tumbling out into the waters of the lake.

CHAPTER II.

AT THE BANK.

I was both astonished and dismayed to see the large sloop go over and precipitate its passengers into the water. The catastrophe happened so quickly that for a moment I knew not what to do.

Then my presence of mind came back, and I set promptly to work to rescue those who had gone overboard. In a moment I had the woman on board of my own craft. She was insensible.

“Save my boy!” cried one of the men. “Don’t mind us; we can both swim.”

“All right; I’ll do what I can,” was my reply.

Looking about, I discovered the body of the little fellow some distance back. I tried to tack, but it could not be done, the wind being too strong from the opposite direction.

“He is going down!” went on the father in agonized tones that pierced my heart. “Oh, save him! save him!” And he made a strong effort to reach the spot himself; but the weight of his clothes was against him, and I knew he could not cover the distance before it would be too late. I was a first-class swimmer, and in a second had decided what to do.

With a bang I allowed the mainsail to drop, and threw over the anchor, which I knew would catch on the rocky bottom twelve or fifteen feet below.

Then I kicked off my boots, ripped off my vest and coat, and sprang to the stern. A single glance showed me where the boy had just gone down, and for this spot I dived head first.

I passed under the water some ten or a dozen feet. When I came to the surface I found the little fellow close beside me. He was kicking at a terrible rate, and I could see he had swallowed considerable of the fresh liquid of which the lake was constituted.

“Don’t kick any more,” I said; “I will save you. Here, put your arms around my neck.”

“I want papa and mamma,” he cried, spitting out some of the water.

“I’ll take you to them if you’ll do as I tell you.”

Thus reassured, the little fellow put his arms around my neck. I at once struck out for the sloop, and reaching it, clambered on deck. As I did so the woman I had saved seemed to come to her senses, and rising to her feet she clasped the boy in her arms.

“My Willie! my darling Willie!” she cried. “Thank God you are saved!”

“Yes, mamma; that big boy saved me. Wasn’t it good of him?”

“Yes, indeed, my child!”

Looking around, I discovered that the two men were clinging to the keel of the large sloop, which had now turned bottom upwards. I pulled up the anchor, hoisted the sail again, and was soon alongside.

“Here you are!” I called out, throwing them a rope by which they might come on board.

“Did you save my son?” demanded the elder one anxiously.

“Yes, William; he is safe,” returned the woman.

“All right; then we’ll come aboard too,” said the man. “Here, Brown, you go first. This accident is entirely my fault.”

“No more yours than mine,” returned the man addressed, as he hauled himself up over the stern. “It was I who wanted to go out without a man to manage the boat, Mr. Markham.”

“Yes; but I tied the knots in the ropes,” was the reply, as the elder man also came on board.

They were all well-dressed people, and I rightly guessed that they were boarders at one of the hotels at Bayport.

“Well, young man, it was lucky you came along,” said Mr. Markham, turning to me. “You have saved at least two lives.”

He was still excited, and put the case rather strongly.

“Oh, no, I didn’t!” I protested. “I only picked you up. Any one would have done that.”

“Didn’t you jump overboard and rescue my son?”

“Well, yes; but that wasn’t much to do.”

“I think it was a good deal. If my son had gone down I would never have wanted to go back. All of us owe you a deep debt of gratitude.”

“Yes, indeed!” burst out Mrs. Markham. “What would I have done without my precious Willie?” And she strained the little fellow to her breast.

The situation was both novel and uncomfortable for me. I had but done my duty, and I didn’t see the use of making such a fuss over it.

“Where are you bound?” I asked, by way of changing the subject.

“We started for a trip down the lake about an hour ago,” replied Mr. Markham. “Will you take us back to Bayport?”

“Certainly; that is just where I am bound. But what do you intend to do with your sloop?”

“Leave her adrift. I never want to see the craft again.” And Mr. Markham shuddered.

“She can easily be righted,” I went on.

“If you want her, you may have her. I will pay the present owner what she is worth.”

“Thank you; I’ll accept her gladly,” I cried; “but it won’t cost much to bring her around, and hadn’t you better pay her owner for the damage done, and let him keep her?”

“No; I’ve given her to you, and that’s settled.”

“Then let me thank you again, sir,” I said warmly, greatly pleased at his generosity.

“Humph! it isn’t much. May I ask who you are?”

“I am Reuben Stone. I run my father’s mill over at Torrent Bend River.”

“Indeed! Rather young to run a mill alone.”

“I have a man to help me. I was brought up about the place.”

“I see. My name is William Markham. I am in the dry-goods trade in New York. This is my wife and my son Willie, and this is Mr. Brown, an intimate friend.”

I acknowledged the various introductions as best I could. Every one was wet, and scarcely presentable; but in that particular we were all on a level, and I did not feel abashed.

We were now approaching the Bayport shore, and Mr. Markham asked me to stop at the hotel’s private wharf, which I did.

“Will you come up to the hotel with us?” he asked.

“I’m not in condition,” I laughed. “I had better be about my business.”

“No, no; I want you to stay here,” he returned quickly. “I want to see you just as soon as I can change my clothes.”

“Suppose I come back in half an hour?”

“That will suit me very well.”

After the party had landed I skirted the shore until I came to the business portion of the town. Here I tied up, and made my way at once to Mr. Carnet’s flour and feed store.

“Well, Rube, got that middlings for me?” he exclaimed as I entered.

“Yes, sir; sixteen bags.”

“All right. Just pile them up in the shed on the wharf. I’ll go down with you. How much?”

“I would rather you would see them before I set a price,” I returned. “I am afraid some of the bags are pretty wet.”

“I don’t want wet bags. How did it happen?”

I related what had occurred. By the time I had finished we had reached the wharf.

“My! my!” exclaimed the flour-dealer. “Mr. Markham! I know him. He is one of the richest men at the Grand. So he said you could have the boat. She is worth a couple of hundred dollars.”

“Yes, and a hundred added. He is more than generous.”

“He can afford it, I suppose.”

“Here are the bags,” I went on. “Ten of them are dry.”

“Those I’ll give you regular price for,—dollar and a half.” Mr. Carnet examined the others. “Suppose we make the six a dollar each?”

“Can’t you make it a dollar and a quarter?”

“No; a dollar is all they are worth to me.”

“Very well. When do you want more?”

“Any time next week,” replied the flour-merchant, handing over the twenty-one dollars that were due me.

“All right. I’ll be over Tuesday. Want anything else?”

“Not for the present. Trade is rather slow.”

Putting the money in my pocket-book, I entered my sloop again, and steered for the hotel wharf. I found Mr. Markham already awaiting me.

“Just tie up here and come with me,” he said.

I did so, and we walked along the principal street of Bayport, which at this hour of the day was nearly deserted.

“I am going to the bank on business,” he went on with a twinkle in his eye. “This is my last day here, and I want to draw out the deposit I made for convenience’s sake when I came.”

I did not see what this had to do with me, but said nothing.

We soon reached the bank, which, in contrast with the many fine buildings in the place, was a dilapidated structure. We entered the main office; and here Mr. Markham asked me to wait while he held a brief consultation with the president.

I waited for half an hour. During that time many people came and went; but I knew none of them. The janitor eyed me sharply, and finally asked me what I wanted.

His tone was a rough one, and I replied curtly that I was waiting for a gentleman who had gone in to see the president; then I turned on my heel, and walking outside, stood on the pavement. It was not until some time later that I found out how suspicious my actions had been regarded.

Presently Mr. Markham came down the steps in a hurry. He was pale with anger, and his eyes flashed with indignation.

“It is an outrage! an abominable outrage!” he ejaculated.

I was rather surprised, and could not refrain from asking what was the trouble.

“You would hardly understand it, Reuben,” he replied. “I made a deposit in this bank under rather peculiar circumstances, and now President Webster refuses to allow me to draw the balance due me until certain matters are adjusted.”

“I hope you don’t lose by it.”

“I won’t lose much. But that isn’t the point. I expected to reward you for what you have done for me, and now I am not able to do so.”

“I don’t expect any reward, sir.”

“Nevertheless, I shall do what is right.”

“The sloop is worth several hundred dollars. That is more than I deserved.”

“I don’t think so. Every time I think of what might have happened to my wife and my little son I cannot help but shudder. Brown and I ought never to have ventured out without a man to sail the boat. We have learned a lesson that we shall not forget in a hurry.”

“It was a risky thing to do in this wind, sir.”

“It was. But about this reward—”

“I don’t want any reward, sir. The value of the sloop is more than I deserve.”

“Nevertheless, you shall hear from me in the near future.”

On this point Mr. Markham remained firm, and a quarter of an hour later we parted, I hoping that none of the party would suffer any from the involuntary bath.

I jumped aboard the sloop, feeling on particularly good terms with myself. As I sped away from Bayport I began to calculate on what the large sloop would net me at a sale. Certainly not less than two hundred and fifty dollars; and this would clear off the bill for repairs at the mill, and leave me a hundred dollars ahead. In my present straitened circumstances this amount would be a perfect windfall.

I tried to steer for the overturned craft, and tow her to a safe place, where I might right her and fix her up.

The wind was as fresh as ever, and I had to steer with care, lest the standing-room should get filled with water from the waves that dashed over the bow. To a person not used to the lake the passage would have been a rough one, but I was accustomed to far worse weather, and did not mind it.

At length I reached the spot where the catastrophe had occurred, and looked around.

The large sloop had disappeared.

CHAPTER III.

BAD NEWS.

For a moment I could not believe the evidence of my own eyes. I had fully expected to find the large sloop in the spot I had left her, held there by the anchor that must have fallen from the deck. But she was gone, and a rapid survey of the surrounding water convinced me that she was nowhere within a quarter of a mile.

This discovery was a dismaying one; yet it did not entirely dishearten me.

The sloop had probably drifted to the lower end of the lake, somewhere near the Ponoco River, which was its outlet. I would no doubt find her beached in the vicinity of the south shore.

I at once turned and sped away in that direction. The distance was about two miles, and in half an hour I had covered it, and skirted the shore for a considerable length.

The large sloop was nowhere to be seen.

I was now really worried. Was it possible that some one had found the craft, and towed her off?

It seemed more than probable. The situation was unpleasant, to say the least. The sloop was now my property just the same as if I had purchased her, and I did not like the idea of any one making off with her, and then setting up a claim against me for so doing.

I spent two hours in my search for the craft, but without success. By this time it was well on in the afternoon, and it became necessary for me to return to the mill.

With something like a sigh, I tacked about, and started on the return, resolved to continue the search at daylight on the following day.

In sailing up the lake to the spot where the Torrent Bend emptied, I had to pass Bend Center; and I decided to tie up at the village, and settle up with Mr. Jackson, who was so afraid I was going to cheat him.

There was a trim harbor at this spot, and into this I ran and lowered the mainsail.

“Hullo, Rube!” I suddenly heard some one call; and looking up, I beheld Tom Darrow, an old fisherman that I knew well, seated at the other end of the pier, smoking his pipe.

“Hullo, Tom!” I returned. “Through work for the day?”

“Yes.”

“How’s the catch?”

“Pretty poor, Rube. Too windy for pickerel,” returned Tom, as he arose and knocked some ashes from the top of his pipe-bowl.

“I suppose it is.”

“Where have you been?” he went on, coming to where I was tying up.

“Over to Bayport with a load of middlings.”

“That so? Thought I see you coming up the lake.”

“I’ve been down looking for a sloop that capsized,” I returned. “Did you see anything of her?”

“What kind of a sloop?”

“A large one, painted blue and white, and named the Catch Me. I believe she used to belong to some one in Bayport.”

“No, I didn’t see her; that is, I don’t think I did. I saw some fellows towing something up the lake about an hour ago. But I thought that was a raft.”

I was interested at once.

“Are you sure it was a raft?”

“Oh, no; come to think of it, it didn’t look very much like a raft, either. You see, it was out pretty far, and I wasn’t paying much attention.”

“Who were the fellows?”

“I don’t know. They had a pretty smart-looking craft, but whose it was I couldn’t make out.”

My heart sank at Tom Darrow’s words. I was certain that the supposed raft was nothing less than the Catch Me. The question was, what had the men who found her done with her?

“What makes you so interested in the sloop?” went on Tom curiously.

“She belongs to me, Tom.”

“What! Where did you ever raise money enough to buy her?”

“I didn’t buy her; she was given to me.”

Tom Darrow was more taken aback than ever. I enjoyed his amazement, and told my story.

“I declare, Rube, you’re quite a hero, and no mistake!” cried the fisherman. “So he gave you the sloop for the job? It was money easily earned.”

“It wasn’t earned at all, Tom. But the question is, what has become of the craft? Unless I find her she won’t do me any good.”

“True enough; but you are sure to find her sooner or later. She can’t leave the lake very well, and all you’ve got to do is to keep your eyes open.”

“I don’t know about that,” I replied, shaking my head. “They might change her rigging a bit, and paint her over, and I would have a job recognizing her.”

“So they might if they were sneaks enough to do so; and I reckon some of them north-enders ain’t too good to try it on. Tell you what I’ll do.”

“What?”

“I’ll try to hunt her up for you.”

“Will you? I’ll pay you for your trouble, Tom.”

“Don’t want no pay, Rube. You’ve done me many a good turn, and so did your father when he was here. I’ll take a trip around the lake first thing to-morrow.”

“And so will I. Between the two of us we ought to discover something.”

After this we arranged our plan. Darrow was to start from the Bend, and go up the west shore, while I was to come down from the mill, and investigate along the east shore. At noon we were to meet at Bayport and compare notes.

“By the way,” said he, when this matter was finished, “heard from your father lately?”

“I expect a letter next week,” I replied. “He is out in South Dakota. He hasn’t located yet.”

“Hope he strikes it rich when he does,” concluded Darrow. “No man in these parts deserves it more.”

Leaving the pier, I made my way to Mr. Jackson’s store, which, as I have said, was the largest at the Bend.

I found the merchant behind the counter, weighing out sugar.

“Well, have you come to settle up?” he asked shortly.

“I have come to pay some on account,” I replied.

“How much?”

“Twenty-one dollars.”

“Why don’t you pay the whole bill of twenty-four, and be done?”

“Because I haven’t so much. Some of the middlings I sold Mr. Carnet got wet, and I had to make a reduction.”

“Humph! Well, hand over the money. Every little helps. But I can’t trust out any more goods till the entire amount is settled.”

And Mr. Jackson placed twenty-one dollars in the drawer, and gave me credit on his books.

I walked out somewhat downcast. I had wanted several things in the shape of groceries, and with no money to purchase them what was I to do?

As I walked down the one street of the village, I passed the post-office. Mr. Sandon, the post-master, was at the window, and he tapped for me to come in.

“A letter just came for you,” he said. And he went behind the counter and handed it over.

For an instant my heart gave a bound of pleasure as I thought it must be a letter from my father; then I saw that the handwriting was strange, and I opened the epistle, wondering what it could contain.

It was dated at Huron, South Dakota, and ran as follows:—

MY DEAR NEPHEW REUBEN,—You will no doubt be very much surprised to hear from an uncle whom you have never seen, but circumstances make it necessary that I should address this letter to you. I wish that my first lines to my nephew might be brighter, but our wishes cannot always be fulfilled, and we must bear up bravely under all trials that come to us.

Hear, then, the sad news that your father is dead. He lost his life by falling down a deep ravine on the morning of the 10th instant. We were out prospecting for a good mill location, and he slipped, and, before I could come to his aid, plunged headlong to the bottom. When I reached him he was unconscious, and lived but a short hour after. I am now arranging to have him buried to-morrow, and shall then follow this letter to Bend Center, to take charge of his affairs.

As you perhaps know, I met your father in Chicago. I loaned him quite a sum of money, and we went to South Dakota together. But of this and other important matters we will speak when we meet, which will be shortly after you receive this letter.

Affectionately your uncle,

ENOS NORTON.

P.S. I would not speak of money matters in such a letter as this, but I cannot afford to lose that which I have advanced. I trust the mill is in good running order.

I could hardly finish the communication. I became so agitated that all the lines seemed to run into each other. Mr. Sandon noticed how I was disturbed.

“Anything wrong, Rube?” he asked kindly.

“My father is dead!” I gasped out, and sank down on a box completely overcome.

CHAPTER IV.

MR. ENOS NORTON.

For a long time I sat on the box in the little village post-office. I could think of nothing but that my father was dead.

The shock of the news, coming as it did so unexpectedly, completely staggered me. The only parent that had been left to me was gone, and I was left to fight the battle of life alone.

“It’s too bad, Rube; that’s a fact,” said Mr. Sandon, laying his hand on my shoulder. “What ailed him?”

“Nothing. He met with an accident,” I replied, struggling hard with the lump that seemed bound to rise in my throat. “He fell over a ravine while looking for a place to locate a mill. You can read the letter if you wish.”

“I will.”

Mr. Sandon adjusted his spectacles, and read the letter carefully. While he did so I sat with my head buried in my hands, trying to hide the tears that would not stop flowing.

“This is from your Uncle Enos Norton, I see,” he went on. “I thought Enos Norton was dead long ago.”

“I have never seen him,” I replied.

“He used to be around these parts years ago when he was a young man; but he got a sudden notion to go West, and he went. He loaned your father some money, it appears.”

“So he says. I don’t know what for. Father took enough along to pay his expenses,” I returned despondently.

“Maybe he made a venture of some kind or another. A man is apt to risk more when he strikes a new country.”

I made no reply to this remark. My heart was too full for further talk, and leaving the post-office I walked slowly back to my boat.

If the prospect before had been gloomy it was now worse. The pang over the news of my father’s death overshadowed everything else; yet I could not help but remember that my uncle was soon to arrive, and that my father’s estate was indebted to him for money loaned.

Entering my sloop, I was soon on the way to Torrent Bend River. The wind was still fresh, and I skirted the shore rapidly, arriving in sight of the mill at sundown.

Ford stood at the door awaiting me.

“Been a little longer than you expected,” he said. “Anything wrong?”

“Yes, Dan; everything is wrong,” I replied. “Read that letter.”

He did so; and somehow it was a comfort to see his eyes grow moist.

“Dead!” he exclaimed, and then he caught me by the shoulder. “Rube, I can’t say how sorry I am for you; there ain’t words strong enough to tell it.” And without another word he led me into the mill.

We passed a rather silent evening. Ford was in the habit of leaving as soon as the day’s work was over, but that night he remained. He was the first up in the morning, and when I came down I found breakfast already prepared.

“Come, Rube, have a strong cup of coffee,” he said. “I know you haven’t slept a wink. I hardly got a nap myself, thinking matters over. Do you know anything about this uncle that’s coming?”

“Nothing but that he was my mother’s brother.”

“He seems to be mighty anxious about his money,” went on the mill-hand, who was always outspoken in his opinions.

“Well, I suppose he is entitled to what is due him.”

“He might have waited till he got here. Wonder when he will arrive?”

“I’m sure I don’t know.”

I was utterly cast down, and could not do a stroke of work. I took a walk up the river, and sat down on a rock to think the whole matter over.

It was two hours later before I rose to go back. The time had been a bitter one; but now I felt better, and was ready to face whatever was to come.

When I arrived at the mill I found Ford hard at work. Tom Darrow had just tied up at the pier, and my helper had told him the sad news.

“It’s hard, Rube, dreadful hard, and no mistake,” he said.

Later on he told me he had sailed around the lake, and into many of the coves, but had seen no trace of the Catch Me. I was sorry to hear this, but in the light of the greater calamity I hardly gave the matter any attention.

“I suppose you didn’t think to get them things you spoke on?” observed Ford when the fisherman was gone.

“What things?” I asked.

“The groceries you were going to get down to Jackson’s.”

“He wouldn’t let me have them. He said I would have to settle up in full before I could have anything more.”

“The miserly chump!” exclaimed Ford; “and after you paying him hundreds of dollars! I wouldn’t patronize him any more!”

“I don’t intend to.” I paused for a moment. “Dan, I am in a bad fix all around. I haven’t any money, and we need things. I don’t know how I am going to pay you your wages next Saturday.”

“Well, don’t let that worry you, Rube; I can get along.”

“But that’s not the point. It isn’t fair to ask you to wait,” I went on earnestly.

“I ain’t starving,” he laughed. “I’ve got some little saved. Besides, when you find the Catch Me, she’ll be worth at least a couple of hundred dollars to you.”

“That’s so; but I imagine finding her will be a bigger job than I thought it would be. I am satisfied that some one has towed her off, and has got her in hiding.”

There was quite a bit of grinding to do at the mill, and after a dinner of which I hardly ate a mouthful, I started in to help Ford do the work.

It was the best possible thing I could undertake; for it diverted my mind, and that eased my heart, which felt at times like a big lump of lead in my breast.

As I tended to the hoppers and helped fill the bags I began to speculate upon what kind of a man my uncle would prove to be. The tone of his letter, as I read it over again, did not exactly satisfy me. What did he mean by stating that he intended to take charge of affairs?

At five o’clock I heard the sound of a horn coming from the main road that ran from Harborport through the Bend to Kannassee, ten miles distant.

“There’s the horn of the stage-coach,” said Ford. “Bart Pollock must want to see you.”

“Perhaps he’s after some feed,” I replied. “I’ll go down and see.”

Brushing the flour from my face and hands, I left the mill on a run. The main road was fifteen rods away through the bushes. There was a rough path but little used, and this I followed.

When I arrived I found the stage-coach standing in the middle of the road, with Bart Pollock, the driver, sitting contentedly on the front seat along with a tall stranger.

“Here I am, Bart!” I sang out. “What’s wanted?”

“Hullo, Rube! Nothin’s wanted. Here’s a visitor to see you,—your uncle, all the way from Western parts.”

“Oh!”

I stopped short to look at the man as he hopped to the ground. He was slimly built, with a thin, sharp face, and cold gray eyes. He carried a hand-satchel, and this he swung from his right to his left hand as he came forward to greet me.

“So this is my nephew Reuben?” he said in a high voice, as we shook hands. “I suppose you’ve been expecting me?”

“Not quite so soon,” I replied. “I thought you’d come in a day or two, sir.”

“Well, I made first-class time. The train left half an hour after the funeral was over, and I didn’t see no use in hanging around any longer. I settled all the bills beforehand. They were mighty high too. A hundred and twenty-five dollars for the coffin and carriage, and fifty dollars for the ground, besides twenty-five for the undertaker, which brings the whole up to two hundred dollars.”

By this time the stage-coach was on its way again, and we were left standing alone.

“Tell me about my father,” I said. “I want to know all about how the awful thing happened.”

“Now, don’t be so fast, Reuben; there’s lots of time. Wait till I’ve had supper, and got rested up a bit. Traveling don’t seem to agree with me. How are things at the mill?”

“Rather slow, sir.”

“What! you must be fooling!”

“No, I am not. Trade all around has been slack this summer.”

“Humph! That must be because you are only a boy. Just you wait till I get to managing things, then I guess business will hum.”

“I do the best I can,” I replied, not liking to be talked to in this fashion.

“Of course, of course; but then you’re nothing but a boy, and a boy can’t do half as well as a man.”

“I am doing as well as any one in these parts. I go ’way over to Bayport for orders.”

Mr. Norton started slightly.

“Bayport?” he queried.

“Yes, sir.”

“Well, that ain’t very far.”

“It is farther than father used to go.”

“Well, your father wasn’t any great hand for business, I guess.”

“Father was always ready to do his best,” I returned warmly, not liking the manner in which my father’s character had been assailed. “He was not responsible for the dull times here.”

“Maybe; but business is just what a man makes it.”

“Are you a miller, sir?”

“No, I ain’t; but I guess it won’t take a man like me long to learn the business.”

I had my doubts concerning the truth of the last assertion. I had been around a mill all my life, and yet there was hardly a day passed but what some new difficulty presented itself.

“You see, I’m a self-made man,” went on Mr. Norton. “I left home long before my sister Mary had married your father. I went out to Chicago, and all the money I have I made there without help from any one.”

“Are you rich?” I ventured.

“Oh, no; but I’m comfortable,—that is, I will be when I get back the money I loaned your father.”

“Father couldn’t have borrowed much.”

“What?” cried Mr. Norton. “That is all you know about it. He came to me pretty often; and that money, added to the funeral expenses, made a good round sum.”

“How much?” I asked faintly.

“All told, it’s just six hundred and fifty dollars,” was the reply.

CHAPTER V.

HOT WORDS.

I cannot say that my first impression of Mr. Enos Norton was a favorable one. His manner was domineering, and evidently he intended to conduct matters to suit himself.

He knew nothing at all about running a mill, yet he expected to take sole charge. This, to say the least, was peculiar.

His assertion that my father’s estate was indebted to him to the amount of six hundred and fifty dollars astonished and dismayed me. What had my parent done with the greater part of this? and how was I ever to settle up?

The mill property as it now stood was not worth over twelve hundred dollars, and at a forced sale it was not likely that it would bring half that sum. How, then, was his claim to be met? and, when all was settled, what was to become of me?

By the time I had asked myself these questions we had reached the mill. Here I introduced Ford, and the three of us entered.

“Not such a good place as I expected to find,” remarked Mr. Norton, examining first one thing and then another. “You don’t seem to keep things in very good order.”

“We keep them in as good order as possible. Many of the things are worn so much that they cannot be repaired,” I replied.

“And it takes work to fix things up,” he added, with a hard look.

I did not reply, and I saw Ford toss his head.

“Well, let us go into the house part,” went on Mr. Norton. “I’m fearfully hungry. Got anything good?”

“I can give you some fried fish, bread and butter, and some blackberries,” I said, as I led the way into the living-room.

“Ain’t you got no coffee?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then those things will do first rate. I’m fearfully hungry. Didn’t have a mouthful since this morning. Make the coffee good and strong.”

“I will, Mr. Norton.”

“Don’t call me Mr. Norton. I’m your Uncle Enos.”

“All right, Uncle Enos; I’ll try to remember.”

I went into the cook-shed, and began to prepare supper. I did not feel in good-humor, and my face must have shown it, for when Ford came in he remarked,—

“Your uncle ain’t going to play second, fiddle to nobody, is he?”

I shrugged my shoulders without replying. The prospects ahead were not very bright.

Presently I had to go into the living-room to get some spices out of the pantry. I found Mr. Norton in the act of taking a deep pull from a small black flask.

“My blackberry brandy,” he said, by way of an explanation. “I have to take it for a weak stomach.”

“Are you sickly?” I asked.

“Somewhat.”

I went out again; but through the crack of the door I saw him take another pull at the flask, and then put it in his pocket.

This was another action that I did not like. About the Bend were a number of men who spent every cent of their money for drink, and this had led me to become strictly temperate.

At length the meal was ready, and I set it on the table, and called in Ford. We sat down, and Mr. Norton helped himself to a liberal portion.

“Why don’t you take hold?” he asked, seeing that I scarcely touched a thing.

“I don’t feel like eating,” I replied. “I am waiting to hear about my father.”

“Oh, well, then, I’ll give you the whole story. We started out from Hamner’s Gulch one bright morning to go up what is known as the Black Hawk Ravine. Your father had an idea that he could set up a saw-mill there if a grinding-mill didn’t pay.”

“He never said anything about a saw-mill to me,” I put in.

“Your father was a very queer man,” said Mr. Norton. “Did he say anything about me in his letters, or about the money he borrowed?”

“Not a word.”

“I thought so. Guess he was ashamed of the money he let fly, traveling to this place and that, and paying a holding price down on half a dozen spots, and then letting them go.”

“But about the journey?” I said, anxious to get back to the particulars of my father’s death, which just now interested me more than anything else.

“Oh, yes! Well, we started out for the ravine, and we reached it about two o’clock in the afternoon. It was a wild spot, and I was for going back; but your father wanted to go ahead, and he did so, I following.”

“And was that where he lost his life?”

“Exactly. He was ahead, and by six o’clock it was getting dark. I called out to him to be careful, as we were then walking along a narrow ledge, and far below was a mountain torrent, ten times worse than this one you have here.”

“And this was the ledge he fell over?”

Mr. Norton nodded.

I shuddered. In imagination I could see my father going over, and clutching out vainly to save himself. It was a horrible thought.

“Yes, he went over. It was no use to try to save him, though I did spring forward. He went down, and struck on his head.”

“You went after him at once?”

“Of course; as quick as I could. He was alive yet, but he didn’t live very long; just long enough to settle up his private matters, and put me in charge of his affairs.”

“How is that?”

“He made me write it out on a bit of paper, and then he signed it. I didn’t want to do it, but he said I was his only relative, and I must.”

“Then he wanted you to take entire charge of his affairs?” I asked.

“That’s it. In other words, I was to become your guardian, Reuben.”

My heart sank at these words. As I have said, I did not take to my newly arrived relative from the start, and it was not a pleasant thought that in future he was to have full power over me. I heartily wished that my twenty-first birthday was at hand.

“I take it your father wasn’t no great business man,” went on Mr. Norton, helping himself to more fish and another cup of coffee. “The state of affairs here shows that he wasn’t. He would have done better by remaining here than by going West as he did.”

This was not the first time that this man had said things derogatory to my father’s memory, and it made me angry.

“I think my father knew his own business best,” I cried. “He knew all about milling, and you don’t know a thing.”

“Don’t talk to me in this style,” cried Mr. Norton, turning quickly. “What I’ve said I’ll stick to; your father was no business man. He didn’t know how to manage.”

“He certainly made a mistake when he appointed you my guardian,” I replied pointedly.

Mr. Norton turned pale.

“What do you mean by that?” he demanded.

“I mean just what I say.”

“You don’t like the idea of my being set over you, eh?”

“No, I don’t.”

“Well, you’ll have to get used to it.”

“I don’t think I ever shall. I could never like any one who spoke of my father in the style you have done.”

“Hoity-toity! That is all boy’s talk.”

“I mean it.”

“Well, like me or not, you must remember that I am now in charge of everything. I shall expect you hereafter to do as I say.”

To this I did not reply. I looked at Ford, and saw that his lip was curled up. Evidently he did not like Mr. Enos Norton any more than I did.

“You have been having things here your own way too long. You have let the business go to the dogs, and all that sort of thing. Now all this has got to be stopped. I have got to get back my six hundred and fifty dollars, and then I have got to get what remains into shape, and invest it for your future good. How does your bank account stand at present?” and Mr. Norton stopped eating to hear my answer.

I paused before replying.

“Did you hear me?” he added. “How much money have you got in the bank?”

“Not a cent,” I returned. And somehow it gave me pleasure to say so.

“Not a cent! Come, I want the truth.”

“I have told the truth. We have no bank account.”

“Well, then, how much money have you on hand?”

“Not a dollar.”

“You mean that?”

“If I didn’t I wouldn’t say so. Business is bad, and I have all I can do to make both ends meet. I took in twenty-one dollars yesterday, and paid it out on account a few hours afterwards.”

Mr. Norton sank back in his chair. I could see that his hopes had had a great fall. Evidently he had expected me to mention quite a round sum.

“Then how do you expect to pay me my six hundred and fifty dollars?” he demanded after a spell of silence.

“I’m sure I don’t know.”

“I laid out the money, and I expect it back.”

“Well, as you have charge of my father’s affairs, you must get it back the best way you can,” I replied briefly.

“None of your impudence!”

“I am not impudent. I haven’t any money, and there is no money here belonging to father; that’s all there is to it.”

Mr. Norton jumped up from his chair and strode about the room.

“You are lying to me!” he cried passionately.

“I tell the truth.”

“I don’t believe a word of it,” he went on. “Your father had money, and either you have spent it, or else you intend to keep it from me. Now, I am going to know the truth.”

As Mr. Norton concluded he walked over to the corner, and caught up a hickory stick that stood behind the door.

“What do you intend to do?” I cried, as he advanced upon me.

“I am going to give you your first lesson in telling the truth,” he replied.

“You shall not touch me with that stick!”

“I will. You shall learn to mind me, and that the very first thing.”

And with these words Mr. Norton rushed on me, and grabbed me by the collar.

CHAPTER VI.

AT ROCK ISLAND.

I could hardly believe that Mr. Norton intended to strike me. I had not been struck for a long time; in fact, as far back as I could remember, and I did not intend to submit.

Accordingly, when the man caught me by the collar, I jerked away as quickly as possible, and put the table between us.

This seemed to enrage him still more, and he fairly leaped the distance, caught me again, and bore me to the floor.

“We’ll see if you are going to mind or not!” he cried.

“Let me up!” I screamed.

“Yes, let him up,” put in Ford. “I won’t have you thrashing Rube.”

And he caught Mr. Norton by the arm, and pulled him in such a fashion that he went sprawling on his back.

My tormentor was completely astonished by this movement. He scrambled to his feet, and I lost no time in doing the same.

“What do you mean by interfering?” demanded Mr. Norton, turning a livid face to the mill-hand.

“I won’t stand by and see Rube abused,” retorted Ford.

“It’s none of your business!”

“I’ll make it my business.”

“You’ll do no such a thing!” howled Mr. Norton. “I won’t have such a fellow as you about the place. You are discharged.”

“I am willing. I wouldn’t want to work here if you are to be the boss. But I’m Rube’s friend, and I’m going to stick up for him. Nice kind of a man you are, raising a fight when you haven’t been here but a few hours! You ought to be ashamed of yourself! If I told folks down to the Bend about the way you carry on, they’d ride you on a rail.”

Ford was in for easing his mind, and I let him go on.

“Stop! stop!” cried Mr. Norton. “I won’t listen to a word.”

“Oh, yes, you will,” went on Ford. “Here is Rube just about heard of his father’s death, and you treating him in this fashion! You haven’t got a heart as big as a toad. Besides, the boy has told you the truth.”

“How do you know?” asked the man, somewhat abashed by the fact that Ford did not back down. “His father must have been worth something.”

“Well, he wasn’t; and in these times it’s hard to make a living at anything in Bend Center. I’ve looked around and I know.”

Mr. Norton was silent for a moment; then his manner appeared to change. He threw the stick into the corner, and sat down on a chair.

“Perhaps I was a little hard,” he admitted; “but I was led to believe that Stone was rich, otherwise I would never have loaned him the money I did.”

No one made any reply to this, and he went on,—

“Sit down, Reuben; I won’t touch you. I didn’t think you had just got the bad news. It’s over a week old to me.”

“I got your letter last evening.”

“Yes? I suppose it was enough to upset you. Come, we will let things run along as they have been for a few days. You won’t find me hard to get on with after you once know me.”

I had my doubts about this, but decided to keep them to myself. We finished the meal in silence, and then Ford beckoned me out into the mill-room.

“Do you want me to stay with you to-night?” he asked.

“Won’t it be too much of an inconvenience?”

“Not at all. I’ll go down to the house, and let the folks know, and then come right back.”

“If you do you’ll have to sleep with me, for I’ll have to give the spare bed to Mr. Norton,” I said.

“I won’t mind that if you don’t,” replied the mill-hand.

So the matter was settled. If Mr. Norton heard of it he did not say anything, and for the remainder of the evening things ran smoothly.

Before we retired I had learned many things that are not necessary to repeat here. Mr. Norton told of how he and my father had met in Chicago, how my father had begged of him to advance him money from time to time, and how the two had started together for South Dakota. He was a fluent talker, and I grew quite interested, though I did not exactly believe all that was told me.

We were all up early the next morning, and Ford and I prepared breakfast. Before eating, Mr. Norton applied himself again to the bottle, and asked the mill-hand if there was a good tavern at the Bend; to which Ford replied that there was a tavern, but whether good or bad he did not know, as he had never stopped there.

“Got any grinding to do?”

“Enough to keep us running till noon.”

“And after that?”

“We’ll have to wait for something to come in,” I replied.

“Then, Ford, we can get along without you,” continued Mr. Norton. “In the future Reuben and I will do all the work.”

“All right,” said the mill-hand, seeing that there was nothing else to be done. “How about my wages?” and he winked at me.

“How much is coming to you?”

“Eight dollars.”

“Reuben, have you the money?”

“No, sir; as I said before, I haven’t a dollar.”

Mr. Norton thought for a moment, and then got out his pocket-book.

“Here you are,” he said. “Give me a receipt. I will have to charge the amount against the estate.”

“Then I don’t want it,” said Ford. “I’m not going to rob Rube of what little is coming to him.”

“Take it, Dan,” I said. “You’ve earned it.” And I compelled him to put the money in his pocket.

Then the receipt was written out, and this Mr. Norton placed carefully in his notebook.

“Now we are done with you,” he said. “If I ever need you in the future I will send Reuben for you. I suppose you never thought of buying the mill, did you?”

“I haven’t got the money,” replied Ford.

“The reason I asked is because the place may be up for sale,” went on Mr. Norton; “if so, it ought to be a pretty good investment for you.”

“It might be,” said Ford.

A little later he went off, and Mr. Norton and I were left alone. I set to work with a will, and he stood around watching me.

“That’s easy enough,” he said, as I fed the grain into the hoppers. “I should think almost any one could do that.”

“Feeding is easy enough, but there are a good many other things to learn, as you will soon see.”

A little later Mr. Norton took a walk around the outside of the place. He was gone fully an hour, and when he came back he appeared to be quite uneasy.

“Do you need anything from the village?” he asked.

“We need a number of groceries,” I replied. “I wanted to get them day before yesterday, but Mr. Jackson wouldn’t let me have them until I settled up in full. I owe him three dollars yet.”

“Well, you had better go down and get those groceries now. Let this grinding go till this afternoon or to-morrow. I want you to get me some—some tobacco.”

“I will have to pay for all I get.”

“Well, I will give you the money. Will two dollars do?”

“I need but a dollar.”

“Then here is a dollar and a quarter. Get me a quarter’s worth of plug-cut smoking. You needn’t hurry about getting back. Seeing what you’ve got on your mind you need a rest.”

In ten minutes I was off in the sloop. Mr. Norton seemed to be very anxious to have me go, but for what reason I could not determine.

“And remember you needn’t hurry back,” he called out as I hoisted the mainsail and stood off from the shore; “if any orders come in I will attend to them.”

As I moved down the shore toward the Bend I reviewed my strange situation. How much had happened in the last forty-eight hours!

I was far from satisfied with Mr. Norton—somehow I could not call him my uncle. I had expected my mother’s brother to be a different kind of a man. He would evidently make a hard guardian, and I was sure that for me there were many breakers ahead.

As the sloop skimmed along far enough from the shore to catch the full benefit of the breeze that was blowing, I espied another craft anchored in a little cove a quarter of a mile below the mill.

She was a stranger to me, and I wondered who owned her, and why her master had stopped at the spot, which was a rocky one, full of thorny bushes.

Perhaps he had come for some geological specimens, which the visitors at Bayport were frequently after. The region was full of all kinds of stone, and I knew it was quite a fad to study them.

I passed the craft, and continued on the way to Bend Center, arriving there in the middle of the forenoon.

I found that the news of my father’s death had been widely circulated, and nearly every one I met came forward to extend a sympathy that went straight to my heart.

I did not go to Mr. Jackson’s store, but to the “opposition,” as it is called in such places. This was kept by Mr. Frank Lewis, a young man, and one whom I found very obliging.

It did not take me long to make my purchases. As I turned to go back to the boat I came face to face with Tom Darrow.

“Hullo, Rube!” he exclaimed. “Well, this is lucky! You’re the fellow I want to see.”

“What about?” I asked. “Have you found the sloop?”

“Come with me and I’ll tell you,” he replied.

And he led the way out of the store, and down to the pier.

“I ain’t found the sloop, Rube, but I’ve found out something about her.”

“What have you found out, Tom?” I questioned, as my heart gave a bound.

“I overheard three men talking about some sloop they had picked up,” went on the old fisherman. “They stopped talking as soon as they saw I was around. I reckon they want to scoop the prize for themselves.”

“Who were the men?”

“I didn’t know two of them; the other was Andy Carney. You know him?”

“Yes; he is one of the tough fishermen from the north end. What do you suppose the three have done with the boat?”

“Taken her up to one of the coves at Rock Island. If I was you I’d sail up and take a look around.”

“I will,” I replied.

“I’d go along, only I can’t spare the time,” said Darrow.

Five minutes later I was on board my sloop, and speeding for Rock Island in search of the Catch Me, which I was now certain had been stolen.

The large sloop had become my property, and as the craft was worth at least three hundred dollars it is no wonder that I was anxious to find her. The sum of money represented a good deal to me, especially in my present situation.

Mr. Norton, my newly appointed guardian, had told me to take my time about getting back to the mill, so I considered that I had at least several hours of my own before me. This was long enough, I calculated, to take a run up to Rock Island, make an investigation, and get back to the mouth of the Torrent Bend River.

I let the mainsail out full, and also the jib. This was all the small sloop could carry in the present wind, and even then I found I had a lively time whenever it came to changing the tack.

I stowed away the stuff I had bought in the cuddy, where it would not get wet, and then took things easy in the stern-sheets.

It was a beautiful day, and had my mind been free I would have enjoyed the outing thoroughly. But the clouds of sorrow and perplexity were upon me, and I paid scant attention to the fair blue sky above and the rippling water beneath.

At length I came within a quarter of a mile of the island, and then began to keep my eyes wide open for whatever might come to view.

Rock Island was half a mile wide by nearly a mile long, and on all sides were a number of coves and inlets, some well hidden by the masses of bushes and trees that grew along the shores.

I decided to make my investigation as systematic as possible, knowing that it would be folly to sail about in a haphazard fashion. I ran into the first cove I came to, looked around in every direction, and continued this until I had visited the entire south and east shores.

By this time it was midday. I was hungry, for a breeze on the water is calculated to sharpen up almost any one’s appetite. I had a lunch in the locker, and this I munched as the sloop sped along to the north shore.

Suddenly I saw, or fancied I saw, a speck of white in the bushes some distance ahead. I tacked in the direction, and presently distinguished the mast of some vessel standing out straight among the crooked trees that lined a long and narrow inlet.

Satisfied that I had made a discovery of importance, I lowered the jib and took several reefs in the mainsail. The wind carried me directly into the opening, and here I dropped anchor.

“Hullo, there! What do you want here?”

It was a rough voice that hailed me, and looking around I beheld a rougher-looking man standing on the shore, not ten feet away from me.

It was Andy Carney, the fellow Darrow had mentioned to me. He carried a gun, and his manner was one of astonishment and anger.

CHAPTER VII.

A PITCHED BATTLE.

I was astonished to find myself face to face with Andy Carney, whom I knew to be one of the toughest characters that infested the north shore of Rock Island Lake.

But if the meeting was unexpected for me, it was equally so for him, for after hailing me he stood still for a moment; and in that space of time I had a chance to recover.

“I say, what do you want here?” he repeated, seeing that I did not answer him.

“I was looking for a sloop that capsized on the lake a couple of days ago,” I returned.

“What kind of a sloop?”

I described the Catch Me as best I could.

“No such craft around this island,” said Carney, after I had finished.

“Are you sure?”

“Certain. I was all around the shore only this morning.”

I did not believe this statement, and I paused, undecided what to do next.

“Was it your sloop?” went on the fisherman.

“Yes. She was given to me the day she was blown over.”

“That so? Why didn’t you see to her at once?”

“I didn’t have time. I was told she was somewhere up here.”

“Who told you?”

“Tom Darrow.”

The instant I uttered the name I was sorry I had done so for I did not wish to get my honest old friend into trouble. The man I addressed scowled.

“Darrow ought to keep his mouth shut,” he muttered. “The sloop ain’t here.”

“What boat is that over yonder?”

“That’s my own craft.”

“You have got her pretty well up the cove,” I added.

The man scowled even deeper than before.

“See here, what business is that of yours?” he demanded. “Reckon I can take my boat where I please.”

“I suppose you can; I only asked. I reckon I can do that.”

“I drew the boat up because I’m busy painting her, and this is a good spot to do it.”

“Do you live here?” I went on, more to gain time to think than for any desire to know.

“Sometimes. I’ve got a sort of a house here, and another over to the shore yonder. I own this island.”

This last assertion I knew to be a falsehood. I had on my good clothes out of respect to my father’s memory, and he evidently took me for one of the summer boarders.

“I should like to see your boat,” I ventured.

“What for?”

“Just to see how a boat is painted. I may want to do such a job myself some day.”

“Well, I’m sorry, but you can’t see her,” replied Carney decidedly.

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t want anybody fooling around. I’ve been mighty particular over the work, and I don’t want it spoilt.”

“I won’t touch a thing.”

“Oh, I know all about that! I ain’t going to have no finger-marks all over the gun’ale and the gold lines.”

I turned and looked at the mast, which was all I could now see of the hidden craft. If my memory served me rightly it was the exact counterpart of the one belonging to the Catch Me. The man was plainly lying, and had my property in his possession.

“Well, I’m coming ashore, anyway,” I returned; and I jumped from the sloop to the rocks.

“What do you mean by disobeying my orders?” cried Carney, rushing over to where I had landed.

“Disobeying your orders?” I repeated.

“Yes. You know well enough I don’t want you to land here.”

“If I want to land I don’t see how you are going to stop me,” I replied as coolly as I could, although I was anxious as to the outcome of the situation.

“You don’t, eh? Didn’t I tell you I owned this island?”

“I don’t believe it. The property has always been in the families of several Bend Center folks.”

“What do you know about Bend Center?”

“I know all about it.”

“You don’t mean to say you live there?” and there was actual wonder in the man’s tone.

“I live near the place. I run the mill over at Torrent Bend River.”

Carney stepped back.

“Are you Reuben Stone?” he cried.

“That’s my name.”

In spite of his bronzed face I saw the fellow turn pale. What impression had the discovery of my identity made upon him?

“I thought you said you owned the boat you are looking for?” he said at length.

“So I do.”

“The Catch Me belonged to Bayport.”

“I thought you didn’t know anything about her?” I returned sharply.

“Well, I—I thought I didn’t,” he stammered; “but what you said put me in mind of her.”

“She was given to me for rescuing the two men and the woman and the boy who were sailing in her.”

“Given to you?”

“Yes.”

“Humph!” Carney tossed his head. “Well, she ain’t here, and you had better look elsewhere for her.”

“I’m going to take a walk around the island.”

I had hardly uttered the words before the man caught me by the shoulder.

“You are going to do nothing of the sort!” he cried. “I want you to clear out at once.”

“Suppose I don’t choose to do so?”

“I’ll make you.”

I looked at the fellow. He was pretty big, and he looked strong; still I stood my ground.

“How are you going to make me go?” I asked.

“Do you see this gun? Well, if you don’t hustle off you may feel it.”

In spite of my efforts to remain calm I shivered. The weapon looked as if it was capable of doing some wicked work.

“You see I’m the boss around Rock Island,” went on Carney, “and I don’t take any talk from any one. I want you to get out at once.”

And saying this, he stepped back and pointed the gun at my head. I did not think he meant to fire it. He thought he would scare me; that was all. But it was not pleasant to have the barrel in line with my head, and I stepped back and out of range.

“Now get on board of your sloop, and pull up anchor,” continued Carney. “I don’t want any more talk.”

While he was speaking I watched my chance, and as he lowered the gun I rushed forward, grasped it with both hands, and pulled it away from him.

“Here! give me back that gun!” he exclaimed, as I retreated.

“Not a bit of it!” I returned. “You’ll find that two can play at that game.”

And I brought up the barrel of the weapon on a level with his breast.

“Don’t shoot!”

“I don’t intend to if you behave yourself. Just you march over to your right.”

“What for?”

“Never mind; do as I tell you.”

With very bad grace Carney did as I had directed. When he had reached a point fully fifteen yards away I told him to halt. The spot was in the midst of a number of barren rocks, and here I felt sure that I could watch him.

“Now I am going to take a look at your boat,” I went on. “Don’t you dare to move while I do so.”

“Won’t do you any good,” he muttered.

Without replying, I made my way through the rough brush and over the rocks to where the mast of the boat could be seen. It was but a short distance, and soon I stood face to face with the hidden craft.

For an instant I did not recognize her. The blue-and-white hull had given way to one of red, and the name had been scratched and covered with several coats of paint; but the general appearance of the deck and rigging had not been changed, and I was certain that the craft was the missing Catch Me.

Had I come a day later, the job of transformation would have been complete, and the sloop might have been lost to me forever. I counted myself lucky at having made the trip of investigation as soon as I had.

An instant later I looked around to see if Carney was where I left him, and I was chagrined to note that he had disappeared.

CHAPTER VIII.

A BLOW FROM BEHIND.

For an instant I did not know what to do. Carney had vanished, and that, I was satisfied, boded no good to me.

With my gun ready for use, I picked my way back to the rock nearest to my boat, intending to embark at once. The man was probably not alone on the island, and had gone off for assistance. Perhaps he would soon appear with the other two men Tom Darrow had mentioned.

But as I jumped aboard my boat another surprise awaited me. Carney was hidden under an old sail forward, and I had hardly set foot upon deck when he jumped up and struck me a cruel blow from behind.

“Take that for interfering with me!” he cried.

I caught but a glimpse of him; then came the blow, and I saw millions of stars. I staggered forward, and for a while my senses forsook me.

I think I remained unconscious at least a quarter of an hour. When I came to I found myself lying on the bottom of my sloop.

Somewhat confused from the rough treatment I had received, I raised my head and looked around me. Water was on every hand, and I saw that the craft had been shoved off from the island, and sent drifting down the lake.

As soon as I was able I ran up the mainsail, and then stood over for the west shore. There was no use returning to Rock Island for the present.

Carney had his gun once more, and would not now hesitate to use it. I must get some one to help me before going back for my property.

I turned the matter over in my mind, and then decided to return to the mill, leave the groceries and Mr. Norton’s tobacco, and then sail down to the Bend for Tom Darrow, and perhaps one or two others with whom I was well acquainted, and who I knew would help me.

As I skimmed over the surface of the lake I decided not to tell Mr. Norton of what had happened and of what I intended to do. It was none of his affair, and he would no doubt claim the boat as part of the estate under his charge. Perhaps I was not doing right according to law, but I was no lawyer, and I thought I could run matters quite as well as he could.

The distance to the mill-landing was soon covered, and then I lowered the sail and prepared to tie up. As I did so I saw two strange men walk out of the mill-room, followed by my newly arrived relative.

I knew every man, woman, and child in the region, and I was sure the two men were total strangers in the lake district. They were short, small built, well dressed; and I could not imagine what had brought them to the place.

The spot where I had tied up was partly hidden from the mill by a number of bushes and trees. I saw that the painter was properly fastened, and then walked slowly towards my home.

“Yes, there is no use of waiting any longer,” I overheard one of the men say. “We have made enough mistakes already. Delay will mean more.”

“Then you intend to go ahead to-night?” asked the voice of Mr. Norton anxiously.

“Yes. By the way, how do you get on with the boy?”

“Pretty well. He’s rather high-strung. I expect him back any moment. I sent him over to Bend Center for some tobacco.”

“Good. Come, Bill; let’s be off before he returns.”

“Just as you say, Dick. You are running this deal, not I.”

And with these words the two men passed out of hearing, and made for the boat I had seen anchored in the inlet when I had gone down to the Bend in the morning.

This conversation surprised me not a little. At first I had intended to come forward and show myself, but now I was glad I had not done so.

Who were the two men? and what was their mission to the mill? Plainly they were well known to Mr. Norton; and yet he had just come from the West, and had not been in Bend Center for many years.

Perhaps these men were also from the West, and, knowing Mr. Norton was at the mill, had stopped over, most likely from Bayport, to see him. This was a rather lame explanation, and it by no means satisfied me. As to what was to be “gone ahead with” that night I had not the faintest idea.

Ordinarily I would not have given the entire matter any attention; but, as I have said, Mr. Norton’s way of doing things did not suit me, and I was anxious to find out something about him, and what I was to expect from him in the future.

I waited for several minutes after the men had gone, and then making rather more noise than was necessary, walked up to the mill.

Mr. Norton met me at the door. “Back at last, I see,” he said. “Got that tobacco?”

“Yes, sir;” and I handed it over.

“Good. I’m nearly dead for a smoke. Do you use the weed?”

“No, sir.”

“That’s right. Never start. It’s costly, and does a fellow no good.”

I took the groceries I had brought, and put them in the pantry. Mr. Norton filled his pipe, and began to puff away vigorously.

“Always have to smoke when I’m thinking,” he remarked as he blew a cloud of smoke to the ceiling.

I was on the point of asking him the subject of his thoughts, but checked myself.

“What are you going to do now?” he inquired.

“If I can, I would like to get off for the rest of the day,” I returned.

“Has that grinding got to be done?”

“No, sir; to-morrow will do.”

“Then you can go. I didn’t think about this news of your father’s death being so new to you, or I wouldn’t have asked you to go to work to-day. Fact is, I’m all upset with traveling around. That’s what riled my temper up last night.”

“I’m not used to such treatment,” I could not help remarking.

“I suppose your father was very easy. Well, we’ll let what’s gone alone, and take a new start. What time do you expect to be back?”

“Some time this evening.”

“All right.”

“By the way,” I went on, as I walked towards the door, “weren’t there two men here just before I came?”

Mr. Norton jumped to his feet.

“What’s that?” he exclaimed in surprise.

I repeated my question.

“I didn’t see them,” he answered. “What made you think they were here?”

His reply rather staggered me. I had not expected so deliberate a falsehood.

“I thought I saw them,” I said simply.

“Must have been mistaken. Nobody here since you went away.”

I walked down to the sloop in a thoughtful frame of mind. What did this false statement mean? Surely there was some mystery connected with the visit of the two strangers,—a mystery that Mr. Norton was anxious to conceal.

I was half inclined to turn back and find out what was “in the wind;” but I concluded that for the present it would be useless to do so. No one but my uncle was about, and he would not tell me a word.

When I reached the pier at the Bend I found Tom Darrow at his accustomed place, disposing of a big mess of fish he had caught during the morning. I told him of what had happened at the island, and he agreed to go with me without delay.

“Never mind taking anybody else,” he said. “I know Andy Carney. He is a rough customer, but a regular coward at heart. When he sees that we mean business he’ll cave right in.”

“I trust it is as you say, Tom,” I replied. “He was pretty ugly this noon.”

“We’ll manage him, never fear.”

“If we get the sloop, I wish you would take charge of her for me,” I continued. “I don’t care to take her down to the mill-landing.”

“I will, Rube.”

Tom jumped aboard, and we were off and up the lake. It was now getting well on in the afternoon, and by the time we approached the island the sun was setting.

“We’ll have to be careful,” I said; “Carney may be on the lookout for us.”

“He wouldn’t dare to fire at us,” laughed Darrow.

But I shook my head. Carney was a desperate character, and I would have felt safer had I had a gun on board, which, unfortunately, was not the case.

At length we rounded the south shore of Rock Island, and stood up for the north end. As we did so Darrow drew attention to another craft directly ahead.

“There’s a boat I’ve seen a number of times in the past few days,” he said. “If I ain’t mistaken it’s the same I saw towing that raft behind it—the raft that I guess was the Catch Me on her side.”

I looked, and was sure I had seen the boat before. Then we ran closer to her, and just as we passed around a bend I caught sight of the boat’s side, and recognized her as the same craft the two strangers had used on their visit to the mill.

CHAPTER IX.

THE TWO STRANGERS.

The discovery I made was totally unexpected, and for the moment I did not know what to make of it. Darrow noticed my peculiar look, and asked what was up.

“That’s just what I would like to know, Tom,” I replied. “Let us run in here out of sight. I want to tell you something.”

I pointed to a cove close at hand, and the old fisherman turned and we swept behind the bushes.

“You are sure that is the same boat you saw towing the sloop?” I questioned eagerly.

“Guess I am. My eyes don’t deceive me very often, though they are getting old.”

“Is the boat a strange one around the Bend?”

“Yes; but it belongs on the lake.”

“Is it Carney’s?”

“Maybe it is. But did you see it around the island when you were here before?”

“No; it was over at the mill.”

And I told him what I knew of the boat and the two men who had sailed her.

“Well, that’s strange,” he said. “Most likely the two chaps are on board now.”

“If so, what are they doing here?” I demanded.

“That’s to be found out,” returned Darrow slowly. “It’s more than likely they ain’t up to no good—with all due respect to your uncle,” he added hastily.

“Never mind about that,” I said. “To tell you the truth, I don’t like Mr. Norton one bit. He treated me like a dog from the start, and there is something in my breast that tells me that he does not mean me well.”

And I told the old fisherman of all I had gone through since the sad news of my father’s death had been received.

He was deeply interested and highly indignant by the time I had finished.

“Ford was right,” he burst out; “I wouldn’t mind helping him to a ride on a rail myself. He ain’t fit to be the guardian of a cow. You will have to watch him, or he’ll spend the proceeds of your father’s estate on himself. If I were you I’d make him prove that he loaned all the money to your father that he says he has.”

“I’ve been thinking about that. I imagine all the business ought to be brought before the court.”

“So it had. If I was you I’d go over to Squire Slocum’s house some time, and state the case.”

“So I will.” I paused for a moment. “But we are off the track for the present. We must go ahead, and see if these two men are in league with Carney.”

“They must be,” said Darrow, as we allowed my sloop to forge ahead again. “If not, how could they have his boat?”

“They might have hired it, and left him waiting for them on the island,” I suggested.

But I did not believe such to be a fact, and Darrow agreed with me. The three were evidently banded together, and for no good purpose.

At length the sloop ahead disappeared up the mouth of a long inlet. Seeing this, we allowed my craft to come up to the bank some distance behind, and here I tied fast, and we went ashore.

“Now let us be careful,” I whispered. “I want to see what the three are up to without being seen.”

“All right; I’ll be as careful as a cat,” responded Darrow.

We picked our way around the rocks and through the bushes silently. Presently the murmur of voices broke upon my sharpened ears, and I knew we were drawing close to our objective point. I placed my hand on the fisherman’s shoulder as a signal for him to halt, and listened with all attention.

“Hullo, Carney!” some one suddenly called.

There was no answer, and the cry was repeated.

“Hullo! Is that you, friends?” came back the reply.

“Yes. Where are you?”

“This way.” There was a moment’s pause, and then the party of three were joined. “You’ve been pretty long, strangers,” went on Carney.

“We had to fix a number of things,” was the reply.

“Did you get everything straight?”

“Pretty much so,” replied the fellow who had been addressed as Dick.

“Good for you, Mr. Avery!”

I was intensely interested in this bit of conversation. It proved beyond a doubt that Mr. Norton and the two strangers were in league together and that Carney was in the circle. The four were up to no good; but what their plans were for the future was not yet made plain.

“How are you getting on with your boat?” went on Yates the third man.

“Slowly.” Carney paused for a moment. “I’ve had a visitor since you’ve been gone.”

Both men were surprised.

“Who?” both asked in a breath.

“Reuben Stone.”

Yates and Avery uttered an exclamation.

“You don’t mean it!” cried the latter.

“It’s so.”

“What did he want?”

“Wanted the boat. He said it belonged to him. He rescued the people who were on board, and they gave him the craft for the service.”

“Well, that’s the oddest thing I ever came across!” ejaculated Yates. “Norton didn’t say anything about the boy coming over here. What did you do?”

“Sent the boy about his business. Told him the boat wasn’t anywhere near the island.”

It will readily be seen from the above that Andy Carney knew how to draw upon his imagination. I could not help but smile at his version of our meeting.

“You are sure the boy knows nothing about the boat being here?”

“Positive.”

“Because we don’t want him to be nosing about here later on.”

“Don’t fear about that. I’m going to take her away as soon as I can. Do you men want to get over to Bayport now?”

“Yes,” replied Yates. “Land us about half a mile above the town.”

“All right.”

The three men moved off towards the place where the sloop had been left. They passed close to where Darrow and I were in hiding. For an instant I thought we would be discovered, but then they disappeared around the rocks.

“We will follow them,” I whispered.

“Don’t you want to stay behind and get the boat?” asked Darrow.

“Yes; but I want to see them off first.”

So silently as shadows we followed the trio to the shore, and saw them enter Carney’s boat.

In doing this they ran within half a dozen yards of where my own craft was tied up. For an instant my heart stood in my throat. Would they see her? If so, what would be the consequence?

But the three did not notice the craft, and soon they were a goodly distance from the shore. With a sigh of relief I rose from my cramped position, and told Darrow to follow me.

In a moment we were within sight of the Catch Me. Since I had been gone Carney had been working like a beaver changing her appearance. He had shortened her mast and spars, put a different kind of a top to the cabin, and finished the painting.

“In a day more, no one would be able to recognize her,” I said. “I suppose he thought he would be safe after he had finished his work.”

“It’s a big swindle!” cried Darrow. “But you’ll cut him off short. No doubt he intends to come back for her as soon as he has landed those two men, who, to my guessing, are no good.”

“That’s just my idea. Well, we’ll get the best of him this time. New paint or not, I must get the boat out of this inlet, and tow her over to the Torrent Bend shore.”

“That’s the talk. Come, we’ll get to work without delay.”

“But you may get all paint, Tom,” I protested.

“I won’t mind that; I’ve got on my old clothes. Come ahead. Won’t Carney be surprised when he finds the boat gone!”

“He might have expected that I would be back.”

“But he didn’t expect you quite so soon. Of course he run a risk, but now he thinks it is all right. No doubt he will keep an eye on all boats steering for the island while he is making the run to Bayport.”

We were soon at work on the Catch Me. I got out the anchor rope, and by hard tugging we managed to slide the craft off the rocks upon which she was partly resting.

Then by taking off our shoes and stockings, and wading in the shallow water, we dragged her out of the inlet, and anchored her some distance from shore.

After this I made my way across the island to where I had left my small craft. I soon had her untied and over to the spot where I wanted her. Darrow then came on board, and we fastened the painter to the bow of the Catch Me, and started for the shore above the mill.

“I don’t want to take her where Mr. Norton can see her,” I explained. “I want to keep her out of sight until I’ve seen Squire Slocum, and got his advice about my father’s estate. Even if the man is my uncle I don’t like him, and his actions seem very suspicious.”

It did not take us long to cover the distance from Rock Island to the shore. Here I knew of a pretty little cove, well hidden by bushes, that was rarely visited. I ran into it, and there secured the Catch Me, intending to let her remain there until matters were more settled all around.

“Now if you are done with me I’ll leave you right here,” said Darrow as I was about to go back to my small boat. “I want to go up the main road a bit, and see Gus Hallett.”

A moment later I was left alone. I hoisted sail, and was soon standing down to the mill landing. As I approached, another boat rounded the bend. I saw that it contained two strangers, and Ben Pointer the Bend Center constable.

“There is Stone now,” I heard Pointer say.

“Is it? Then arrest him on the spot,” returned one of the strangers. “I am sure he is the thief.”

CHAPTER X.

A SURPRISE.

I was never so astonished in my life as when I heard one of the new-comers in the boat order the constable to arrest me at once. I had done no wrong, and I could not make the matter out.

“Hullo, Stone!” sang out Constable Pointer. “Hold up; we want to see you.”

“I’m going to tie up at the landing,” I replied; and as I spoke I lowered the sail.

The two men in the other boat did the same, and soon all hands were standing on the little wharf.

“What do you want of me, Pointer?” I inquired, looking from one to the other of the three men.

“He’s going to arrest you, young man,” replied the elder of the two others.

“Arrest me! What for?”

“You know well enough.”

“I haven’t the least idea,” I returned. “I haven’t done anything wrong.”

“Too thin! Do you know who I am?”

“I do not.”

“My name is Williams—Richard Williams, and I’m the owner of the Catch Me, the craft you have stolen.”

I was rather surprised at this speech, but relieved to think that I was not accused of some other crime.

“I did not steal your boat, Mr. Williams,” I replied as calmly as I could.

“I have pretty plain evidence that you did,” returned the boat-owner warmly.

“Nevertheless, you are mistaken, and you ought to know it.”

“I ought to know it? Young man, what do you mean?”

“Didn’t Mr. Markham pay you for the boat?”

“Pay me! Not a cent, sir; not a cent!”

I was surprised.

“He didn’t pay you?” I gasped.

“No, he didn’t; and besides, even if he did, the boat is still mine. When a man hires a boat for a day he isn’t supposed to keep her forever.”

“Do you mean to say he didn’t even pay you for hiring her?” I asked faintly.

“No, he didn’t; and you know it. He was the biggest rogue at the hotel, and when he left he owed me nearly fifty dollars for boat-hire.”

The news actually staggered me. Mr. Markham a fraud! I could not believe it.

“Well, he told me he would pay you for the boat, and then she should be mine,” I explained. “I saved him and his family from drowning when the boat went over. He even wanted me to take a reward besides, and took me to the bank to get the money.”

“And did he get the money?” questioned Mr. Williams.

“No; he had some difficulty, and”—

“Rather guess he did have some difficulty,” sneered the boat-owner.

“That man was nothing more nor less than a swindler,” put in the constable. “He tried his best to do the bank out of several thousand dollars.”

“I can hardly believe it,” I replied. “He looked every inch a gentleman.”

“Where is the boat?” demanded Mr. Williams.

“She is just in the cove above, sir. I suppose, then, she doesn’t belong to me,” I added, with a sinking heart.

“Hardly, young man; unless you want to pay four hundred dollars for her.”

“I couldn’t pay four hundred cents.”

Considerably downcast, I led the way to where the Catch Me rode at anchor.

All my high hopes concerning her and what I might realize by a sale melted away.

“Then you didn’t take her on purpose?” asked Pointer, as we walked along.

“Certainly not,” I replied. “I thought she was my property.”

“It’s quite likely men are giving away such valuable presents,” sneered the man who had not yet spoken.

“Nevertheless, he appeared wealthy enough to do so, and he said I could have her,” I cried hotly. “I wouldn’t steal a pin!”

There was no reply to this, and presently we came in sight of the Catch Me.

“That my boat?” ejaculated Mr. Williams.

“That’s the Catch Me,” I replied. “Some men tried to steal her and alter her appearance.”

“A likely story! This is some of your own work”—

“It is not!”

“And I say it is. I believe you are in with this Markham,” stormed Mr. Williams. “You towed the boat in here, and expected to fix her up in such a fashion that no one would know her again. Pointer, I want him arrested.”

I started back. The word arrest sent a chill through my body.

“Believe me or not, Mr. Williams, I am innocent,” I cried. “Mr. Markham gave me this boat—at least he said I could have her. I went on a hunt for her, and took Tom Darrow the fisherman with me. I found that a fellow named Andy Carney had taken her to Rock Island, and was at work on her. We waited till Carney and his chums, two in number, had left the island, and then we hooked fast and dragged her over here. That’s the whole story, and it’s the truth.”

And I looked the boat-owner squarely in the eye as I spoke.

My manner had an effect upon him. He bit his lip.

“You say Darrow helped you find the boat?” he asked.

“Yes, sir. If you don’t believe it, ask him. Every one in the Bend knows Tom wouldn’t lie about it.”

“And you say a fellow named Carney took the boat in the first place?”

“Yes, sir. He had two strangers with him.”

“Then if your story is true I will have Pointer arrest that man. This mutilation of my property is shameful. But you must come along and prove your story.”

“Tom Darrow isn’t at the Bend now. He left to call on Gus Hallett, who lives about half a mile up the main road.”

“Is he there now?”

“I think so.”

“We’ll go up and see him at once,” said Mr. Williams.

Leaving the other man in charge of the Catch Me, with instructions to sail her over to Bayport, the boat-owner told the constable and me to lead the way.

We met Darrow just coming away from the Hallett cottage. He was surprised to see me, and more surprised when I informed him of the object of our coming.

“What! Rube steal that boat!” he exclaimed. “Why, Mr. Williams, it’s plain to see you don’t know much about the Bend! The Stones are every one of them as honest as a summer day is long.”

And then he told what he knew of the affair.

His statement corroborated mine so well that the boat-owner was forced to believe that I had told him the truth; but he was still indignant regarding the treatment the Catch Me had received, and he made us promise to appear against Carney whenever wanted.

We then walked back to the mill-landing. As we did so, Mr. Norton came out of the mill, and approached with a questioning look on his face.

“What’s up?” he asked.

“Nothing much,” I replied briefly.

“There seems to be,” he went on.

“Who are you?” asked Mr. Williams.

“I am Enos Norton, this boy’s uncle and guardian.”

“Ah, indeed! Well, you can be thankful. We came very near arresting the boy.”

Mr. Norton was greatly taken aback. He asked half a dozen questions at once, and he grew pale at the mention of Carney’s name.

“Have—have you arrested that man?” he faltered.

“No; but we’re going to,” replied Constable Pointer.

“Of course, of course,” said Mr. Norton uneasily. “He has done a great wrong. Reuben, you should have told me that Mr. Markham gave you the sloop.”

To this I made no reply. A little later Mr. Williams and Pointer went on board their boat, and Darrow accompanied them. They were bound for Bayport, and expected to catch Andy Carney on his return to Rock Island.

I walked to the mill slowly, Mr. Norton following. I was deeply perplexed. What did Mr. Markham mean by his course of action? Had he really intended to dupe me, or was there some mistake?

Mr. Norton watched me closely, but said no more until we were inside of the mill; then he slammed the door shut and faced me, his face growing dark with passion.

“Reuben!” he cried, savagely.

“Well, sir?” I returned.

“I want to talk to you.”

“What about?”

“What do you mean by trying to play an under hand game on me?” he demanded.

CHAPTER XI.

MR. NORTON’S MOVE.

It was plain to see that Mr. Norton was deeply angered; indeed, he seemed to be in as violent a rage as it is possible for a man to attain. His teeth were tightly closed, and his hands twitched nervously.

I made no reply to his last words, and then he went on,—

“Don’t you understand that I am your guardian, and that I am to be informed of all your affairs?”

“I understand that you are to know all about the mill matters,” I said evasively.

“And about your matters too. Why didn’t you tell me about the boat, and your going after her?”

“Because I didn’t choose to do so, sir.”

I did not like his manner of speech, and I spoke defiantly. Had he been more reasonable in his actions I should have answered him as respectfully as was possible.

“You didn’t choose to do so?” he repeated.

“No, sir. It was my own private affair, and had nothing to do with my father’s estate.”

“Humph! don’t you know that you are a minor?”

“I do know that.”

“And that you have nothing but what is included in your father’s estate, and subject to the claims I have against it?”

“I don’t know what the law is on that point. I shall find out very soon.”

Mr. Norton changed color.

“What do you mean by that?” he asked in a low voice.

“I mean that I am going to see the proper authorities, and have the case go on in the proper way.”

“Do you mean to say that you are going to see some lawyer?”

I nodded.

“You young fool, you! What good will that do?” he retorted.

“It may do a good deal of good. I don’t know anything about the law, and I want matters straight.”

“You’ll incur a lot of unnecessary expense; that’s all. We can settle this matter just as well between ourselves. I have bills for all that is due me, and after these are paid the balance shall be held in trust for you.”

I made no reply. Had Mr. Norton been a different kind of a man I might have been satisfied with his plan, but I could not bring myself to trust him.

“Did you hear what I said?” he demanded.

“I did, sir.”

“And agree to it?”

“No, sir; I am going to see Squire Slocum about the matter.”

“You will gain nothing by it.”

“I shall be better satisfied.”

“Do you mean to say that you don’t trust me?”

To this I made no reply.

“Answer me!”

“I’m going to have the thing settled by law, sir.”

“And how soon?” he sneered.

“As soon as possible. I’ll go and see Squire Slocum to-morrow.”

I had hardly uttered the words when Mr. Norton grasped me by the collar and jammed me up against the wall.

“You’ll do nothing of the kind!” he foamed. “I won’t have the money squandered in court!”

“Let go of me!” I cried.

“No, I won’t; until you promise to behave and do as I say!”

“I—I—won’t promise.”

Mr. Norton’s grasp was a tight one, and I was in danger of choking. I tried to break away, but he held me fast.

“You will promise!” he stormed. “I am not to be tricked by a boy!”

For reply I kicked out with my right boot as hard as I could. The blow caught the man in the shin, and howling with pain he relaxed his grip, and I squirmed away and made for the door.

“Stop! stop!”

“I won’t stop,” I returned, when I was at a safe distance. “I am not to be treated like a dog.”

“Come here, Reuben! I’m not going to treat you like a dog. I only want you to act reasonably.”

“I am acting reasonably.”

“No, you’re not. Come in here and get supper ready. It’s time we had it—going on eight o’clock.”

What was I to do? I was tremendously hungry, and to a growing boy his appetite is an important thing. I lingered on the doorstep.

“Come in here and prepare supper,” he repeated.

“Will you promise not to touch me if I do?”

“Yes, I’ll promise,” he replied somewhat doggedly.

For an instant more I hesitated, and then I re-entered the living-room of the mill. Mr. Norton did not offer to lay hands on me, and I set to work getting the evening meal on the table.

“Do you know this Carney?” he asked after a long spell of silence.

“I know of him,” I replied briefly.

“Who were the other two men?” he went on, pulling out his pipe and filling it.

“Strangers around here,” I said, but did not add that they were the two that had called on him during my absence.

“Were they with this Carney when he went away?”

“Yes, sir.”

Mr. Norton got up and took several turns about the room.

“Got that supper ready?” he asked abruptly.

“Almost.”

“Well, hurry up! I want to go down to Bend Center this evening.”

“This evening!” I exclaimed. “It’s rather late.”

“Isn’t the tavern open?”

“I suppose it is.”

There was another period of silence, and we sat down to eat. I wondered what had put Mr. Norton in the notion of going to the Bend that night. Was he really going to the tavern, or was he going to head me off by seeing Squire Slocum before I had the chance of doing so?

It did not take him five minutes to finish, and then he arose and put on his hat.

“Do you know the way?” I asked.

“Of course I do,” he snarled. “Didn’t I live here years ago?”

That was true; and this put the thought into my mind that perhaps he was going to call on some old acquaintance.

But then I remembered that one of the two strangers had said that something was to be done that night. Did Mr. Norton propose to take a hand in this?

“When will you be back?”

“In an hour or so. You had better go to bed. I suppose you are tired.”

“Yes, sir.”

In a moment more Mr. Norton was gone, and I was left alone. I cleared away the dishes, and then sat down in the big rocker to think matters over.

I was confused over the things that had happened since Mr. Norton’s arrival. His claims and the affair of the Catch Me bewildered me. I was but a boy, brought up almost in the backwoods, and I could not reason out what was going on.

But I was satisfied that something was wrong. It seemed to be in the very air, and I could not help but feel it.

Then my mind reverted to my father’s untimely end, and I shed bitter tears as I thought over how I had been thus suddenly left alone in the world.

My meditations were interrupted by a heavy knock on the door. I sprang to my feet, wondering who the visitor could be.

An instant later the knock was repeated, even louder than before. I bade the person enter. The door swung open, and I found myself face to face with Andy Carney!

I was startled, and stepped back. The fisherman saw that I was alone, and he shut the door behind him and locked it.

“Carney!” I exclaimed.

“Yes, it’s me,” he replied. “Guess, young fellow, you didn’t just expect to have me call on you.” And he leered at me wickedly.

I began to feel uneasy at once. There was nothing at hand by which I could defend myself.

“What do you want?” I asked, as coolly as I could.

“I come over to get even with you. What do you mean by setting Rich Williams on my track?”

“Mr. Williams was after his boat.”

“Thought you said it was your boat?”

“I thought it was; but the man who gave it to me didn’t pay for it, and so I had to give it up. Did you see Mr. Williams?”

“Did I see him?” The fellow uttered a short laugh. “Yes, I seen him; and it was all I could do to get away. But I want you to understand that you have got to shoulder this scrape. I’ve got nothing to do with it.”

“You altered the boat,” I returned; “and you tried to steal her too.”

“Stop right there!” he cried. “Do you see this? I mean business.” And as he spoke he drew out a pistol.

CHAPTER XII.

A MIDNIGHT CRIME.

I saw the pistol, and I was properly alarmed. It is said that there are those who can look in the barrel of such a weapon unflinchingly. If so, I am not one of the kind.

I did my best to get out of range; and seeing this, Carney laughed again.

“Scared you, did I?” he said.

“I don’t care to have a pistol pointed at me.”

“No, I suppose not, nor a gun either,” with another laugh.

“What do you want here?”

“I told you I’d come to get square with you.”

“What do you intend to do?”

“Anybody here with you?”

“None of your business!”

“Hold up there!”

And again the weapon was pointed at my head.

“This is my house, and I want you to leave it,” I returned as steadily as I could.

“I’ll leave it when I please. Hullo there!” he shouted at the top of his voice.

I expected to see some one enter in response to his call, but I was mistaken.

“Guess you are alone,” he went on after a pause. “Now tell me, how much money have you got in the house?”

I was startled at this question. Undoubtedly the man meant to rob me.

“Haven’t a dollar.”

“Come, now, no lying.”

“I have told you the truth.”

“Then I shall take a look around myself.”

“Did you come here to steal?” I demanded.

“None of your business! Sit down in that chair, and don’t you dare to move until I tell you.”

And Carney emphasized his words with a shake of the pistol.

I sat down in the chair as directed, and the fisherman began a rapid search of the apartment. It was not long before he came across the hand-satchel Mr. Norton had carried when he arrived.

“Locked, eh?” he said, as he examined it. “Where is the key?”

“I haven’t it! It belongs to my uncle.”

“Your uncle! Where is he?”

“Just stepped out.”

“Glad you told me. I’ll get through before he returns.” Carney stepped to the mantel-shelf and took off a number of small things of value. “You are sure about that money?”

“I know I haven’t a dollar,” I returned.

“Turn out your pockets.”

“I’ll see you in Halifax first!” I burst out. “You sha’n’t go a step farther in your doings, not if I have to die for it!”

And watching my chance, I sprang at the man, and pushed his pistol aside.

He was surprised at my temerity, and for a moment I had the best of the battle; but then he gathered himself together, and sent me sprawling on the floor.

“Now lay there, and don’t you dare to move!” he commanded. “I don’t want to be too ugly, but I will be if you don’t mind what I say.”

Then leaving me half dazed, he went hurriedly through the other rooms, gathering quite a number of things, some of which he stuffed in his pockets, and others in an old valise he found in the mill-room.

“Now I guess I’m square,” he said, when he had finished. “Don’t you dare to follow me or give me away, Stone, or it will be the worse for you. I ain’t a man to be trifled with, and don’t you forget it.”

Then he passed out of the door and was gone.

Oh, how I wished that I had a pistol at that moment! I am not a bloodthirsty fellow, but it galled me to see this ruffian walk off with my property.

But the only weapon in the mill was an old gun, and this was unloaded, and had not been fired for several months; in fact, not since the winter, when I had gone rabbit-hunting.

No sooner had the fellow departed, however, than I made up my mind to find out where he was going to, and, if possible, to recover what he had taken.

I got down the old gun, and hastily cleaning out the barrel, loaded it up; then putting on my hat I stole out of the mill, and in the direction that Carney had taken.

There was no moon, but the stars were shining brightly, and it was far from being absolutely dark.

Carney had gone off in the direction of the main road, and soon I caught sight of him some distance ahead. I made as little noise as possible as I drew nearer to him.

The man walked rapidly until he passed Hallett’s house; then he made for the lake, and I rightfully conjectured that he was going to his boat, which he had left some distance up the shore.

As he approached the water, I drew nearer to him. He passed down a bed of rocks, and there hidden in the bushes was his craft.

Just as he prepared to cast off I hailed him. He was startled, and turned as if to pull out his pistol.

“Stop that!” I ordered. “I have a gun now, and I can fire as straight as you.”

“So you’ve followed me,” he sneered.

“I have. Just you hand over that stuff.”

“Not much! I took some trouble to get it, and I mean to keep it. It isn’t much; but every little counts.”

“I’ll give you just one minute to hand it over,” I went on; and I pointed the gun at his head.

Suddenly he jumped behind the mast, and shoved the boat from the shore. I fired one shot in the air, to scare him,—for it was not in my heart to shoot any one,—and then plunged into the shallow water after him.

But he was beyond me, and the next instant he had his sail up, and was leaving the shore rapidly. He kept well out of range, so I could not have hit him even if I had wanted to do so.

“You’re not smart enough for me!” he called back tauntingly. And in a moment he passed out of sight in the gloom.

I stood still for a while, not knowing what to do next. Following the fellow had been of no avail. He had got away and taken with him all the valuable stuff that was lying around the mill.

There was nothing to do but to return home and make the best of the matter. And this I did, pausing in front of the Hallett homestead and wondering if it would do any good to awaken old Mr. Hallett and ask him for his assistance in going after Carney.

But this I decided not to do, for the old man was very fussy, and we were not exactly on the best of terms.

When I reached the mill all was quiet and just as I had left it, less than an hour before. I looked at the old clock that stood in one corner of the living-room and was astonished to find that it was already past midnight.

I sat down in the rocker with my brain busy thinking. But as moment after moment passed, my head sank back and my eyelids gradually closed. Everything was quiet save the loud tick, tick, of the old clock, and this soon put me into a sound sleep.

Once or twice I came very near waking up. Then I thought I was aroused by the flash of a bright light and a peculiar sensation in my nose and throat. But I immediately sank back, and went into a deeper sleep than ever.

When I awoke it was sunrise, and the light was streaming into the window and across the floor. I jumped to my feet; and as I did so, a small stone of peculiar brilliancy, lying on the floor, attracted my attention.

I picked the stone up and examined it. If it was not a diamond, it was a fine imitation, I wondered from whence it had come.

I could remember of no one about the mill having a diamond. To my knowledge Mr. Norton did not wear any such expensive ornament. The only man I knew of in the vicinity who sported such a stone was Mr. Jackson, the storekeeper, and on his visit to the mill he had not been near the living-room.

I gave the stone a second examination. As I did so I heard a footstep outside and slipped the thing into my pocket.

The next moment Mr. Norton came into the room from the sleeping apartment beyond. His face was pale and I wondered when he had come in, and if he had slept much.

“Woke up, have you?” he exclaimed. “’Tain’t a very nice place to go to sleep in.”

“I found the chair very comfortable,” I returned, trying to determine what would be best to say in regard to the robbery.

“Why didn’t you go to bed?”

“I didn’t get a chance. I—”

“Never mind with your excuses. Have you got breakfast ready?”

“No, sir; but I soon will have.”

Mr. Norton took a pull from the flask he always kept in his pocket, and then got out his pipe and fell to smoking.

I set the table in silence and started to make the coffee.

I noticed he was very uneasy, and looked at me half a dozen times rather curiously.

Presently his eye wandered over to where his valise had stood and he noticed that the bag was missing.

“What have you done with my grip?” he asked.

“It was stolen last night,” I said, as steadily as I could.

“Stolen!”

“Yes, sir.”

“You can’t mean it!” he ejaculated, facing me with a look of horror on his face.

“It was stolen, and so were a lot of other things.”

“Boy, you lie!”

“It’s the truth.”

“I don’t believe a word of it!” gasped Mr. Norton, catching his breath.

I could see that he was fearfully agitated, and wondered what the valise could have contained.

“I tell the truth. It was stolen along with a lot of other things that belonged to the mill. Andy—”

“You can’t fool me!” shouted Mr. Norton. “You have taken those things away yourself. I thought from the start that you might be deeper than you appeared, and now I’m sure of it. I was a fool to be taken in. Tell me this instant everything you have found out!”

CHAPTER XIII.

AT SQUIRE SLOCUM’S HOUSE.

It was evident that Mr. Enos Norton was terribly in earnest. Compared with his present state, his former anger appeared as child’s play.

“I have told you the exact truth,” I replied. “Andy Carney came in here last night and stole the things.”

“Andy Carney! The man you say stole the boat?”

“Yes, sir.”

Mr. Norton was silent for a moment.

“Reuben, I don’t believe your story,” he cried at length. “You’ve taken that valise yourself, and put away the other things to make your story appear plausible. Now, I want you to tell me exactly all you have discovered, otherwise it will go hard with you.”

I remained silent. What more was there to say?

“Did you hear me?” stormed my guardian.

“I hear you,” I replied as calmly as I could, which is not saying much.

“Well, why don’t you answer then?”

“I have told the truth.”

I had hardly uttered the words before Mr. Norton sprang at me.

“You will find I am not to be trifled with!” he exclaimed.

“And you will find out that I am not to be treated like a dog,” I returned. And I ran across the room and towards the door leading to the store-room.

“No, you don’t! You sha’n’t escape me like this!” he shouted. And he ran after me and placed himself directly in front of the door.

For an instant I was dismayed. Then I thought of the window close at hand, and throwing it open, sprang out.

“Stop! stop!” he cried as he darted towards the opening.

Instead of heeding his command, I made the best possible use of my time in putting a good distance between us. I had got at least three rods away from the house when he appeared at the door and started after me.

“I tell you to stop, Reuben!” he called for at least the tenth time.

“I’m going to the village,” I yelled back.

“If you don’t come back it will be the worse for you!”

“I’ll chance it.”

A look down towards the boat-landing proved that my boat was not there, and I hurried along the main road. I did not stop running until I was fully a quarter of a mile from the mill, and then it was only to drop into a quick walk.

As I hurried along I thought over my situation, and made up my mind that the best thing I could do was to call on Squire Slocum and state my case. The squire had been a warm friend of my father, and I felt certain that he would give me some sound advice, and tell me how to proceed.

I reached Bend Center long before seven o’clock. I was not certain whether I would find Squire Slocum up, so I walked around to the back of the house to ask the hired girl when I could best see him.

“The squire went over to Bayport an hour ago,” she said.

“To Bayport?” I repeated. “It’s pretty early in the morning.”

“There’s some trouble at the bank there,” replied the girl. “A messenger came over and woke us all up. He wanted the squire right away, and he had to go off without waiting to get his breakfast.”

My curiosity was aroused at once.

“What was the trouble at the bank?” I asked.

“I don’t know.”

“And you don’t know when the squire will return?”

“No, sir.”

I walked away slowly, my head filled with all sorts of thoughts. Could there be any connection between the visit of the two strangers and the trouble over at Bayport? and where had Mr. Norton gone during the previous evening? Had he spent the time at the tavern?

I soon had a chance to solve the last question. A tall, ragged fellow came along, and I recognized him at once as Joe Kent, a ne’er-do-well of the Bend.

“Hullo, Joe!” I sang out.

“Hullo, Rube,” he returned. “What brings you to the Bend so early in the morning?”

“A little business, Joe. Tell me, were you over at Bender’s tavern last evening?”

“What you want to know for?”

“I want to know who was there.”

“I was there from about eight o’clock till Bender closed up.”

“Was there a tall stranger there?”

“No; only Bender, Hallett, Forms, and myself.”

“No one else?”

“No.”

“You are sure?”

“Of course I am. Why, what’s up?”

“Nothing, Joe. I am much obliged;” and I hurried away before he could say any more.

I walked down the main street hardly knowing what to do next. In front of the post-office I met Ford, who had just come from his home to look for a job of some kind.

“Well, Rube, how do you make out with your uncle?” he asked, as he jumped down from the barrel upon which he had been sitting.

“Don’t call him my uncle, Dan,” I returned. “He may be a relative according to law, but he isn’t in heart.”

“Why, has he been after you again?”

“Rather,” I returned bitterly. And taking Ford aside I told him of all that had occurred.

“The mean rascal!” exclaimed the ex-mill-hand. “It would do me good to punch his head.”

“I don’t know what to do,” I went on. “If I go back he may do me up.”

“He wouldn’t if I was around,” replied Ford with a decided shake of the head.

“I am satisfied that he is a wicked man at heart,” I went on. “It is an awful surprise to me too, because I always heard father speak well of him.”

“You can’t tell how some men will act when they have a little power. He, no doubt, thinks he can boss you just as he pleases.”

“Well, he’ll find out that he is mistaken.”

There was a moment of silence, and then Ford said,—

“Tell you what to do, Rube. You go back and I’ll go with you.”

“Thank you, Dan; but you will lose your time by that.”

“A day or two won’t matter. It isn’t likely I’ll strike anything at once, things are so dull.”

“Maybe Mr. Norton won’t have you around.”

“Then I’ll sit on a rock on the other side of the road,” laughed Ford. “He can’t stop me from doing that.”

“Suppose you go back with me and keep out of sight until I give you some sort of a signal,” I suggested.

“That’s an idea. If I show myself at once he’ll keep in till I go away.”

We decided to act on this plan at once. There was no telling when Squire Slocum would get back from Bayport, and, strange as it may seem, I did not like the idea of leaving Mr. Norton in sole charge of the mill.

He knew nothing of the business, which must be looked after; and besides, I was afraid to trust him.

We started at once. When in sight of the mill, Ford stepped into the bushes, saying he would draw up close on the water side, and if I needed him to give a loud whistle.

This arranged, I walked boldly up to the mill door and entered. Mr. Norton was nowhere to be seen; but an instant later he appeared with a flushed face.

“Oh, so you’ve concluded to come back,” he said.

“I didn’t intend to stay away for good,” I replied, as lightly as possible, though I watched him closely.

“Have you seen the squire?”

I paid no attention to this question, and presently he repeated it.

“I was at the squire’s house,” I responded.

“And what did he say?” asked Mr. Norton, though he did not appear to be as much interested as I supposed would be likely.

I pretended not to hear, and passed into the living room. Here on the table everything remained just as I had left it. Mr. Norton had evidently no appetite for breakfast.

“Did you hear my question?” he demanded.

“I heard it.”

“Why don’t you answer then?”

“Because I don’t choose to do so.”

I expected this would bring out another storm of passion. But I was mistaken. Mr. Norton merely shut his mouth hard, and walked up and down the room.

“Reuben, you are smarter than I thought you were,” he said presently. “I thought you were a mere backwoods boy, but I find I am mistaken.”

“Do you want your breakfast, sir?”

“No; I’m not hungry. You sit down and eat.”

I did so, and he walked around and eyed me curiously.

“Reuben, your father died rather poor,” he continued. “He was a hard worker, but he didn’t know how to manage.”

“It was the hard times, and not the managing,” I put in, eager to defend the parent I had just lost.

“When your father fell over the ravine, he and I were just getting ready to make a pile of money,” went on Mr. Norton slowly. “If he had lived two months longer he would have been a rich man.”

In my wonder at this statement I stopped eating at once.

“You must be joking,” I cried.

“No; it’s the sober truth. We had all our plans ready when your father’s death upset everything. It was a splendid scheme, and only needed a little nerve to carry it out.”

“And what kind of a scheme was it?” I asked eagerly, for this news was totally new to me.

“It’s the same one mentioned in those letters in my valise,” replied Mr. Norton.

CHAPTER XIV.

MR. NORTON’S STATEMENT.

I was more mystified than ever. Evidently Mr. Norton still supposed that I had taken his bag and examined its contents.

“What was the scheme?”

“Didn’t you read the letters?”

“I didn’t even see them. Carney has the valise, as well as the other things; and if you want to get the stuff back you had better go after him.”

“You still stick to that statement?”

“Of course, for it’s the truth.”

Mr. Norton drew a long breath. I felt pretty certain that at last he believed me.

“Well, if Carney did really steal the bag, why didn’t you stop him?”

“I couldn’t. He had a pistol, and he threatened to shoot me if I moved out of the chair.”

“I ought to get that bag back,” he went on, with a decided shake of his head.

“What was the scheme father and you had?” I asked.

“Can you keep a secret?” questioned Mr. Norton in a low voice.

“Certainly I can,” I replied, never dreaming of what was coming.

“It was a plan to get hold of twenty thousand dollars worth of bonds and cash,” whispered the man.

“How?” was all I could say.

“Out of the bank.”

“But how could you do it?” I asked innocently.

Mr. Norton looked at me with a sneer on his lips.

“Reuben, you’re a fool!” he cried. “You haven’t any sand in you at all.”

“A little while ago you said I was pretty smart,” I returned, for it seemed about the only thing to say.

“You are in some ways, but in others you are as blind as a mule. Of course, you don’t suppose the bank officials would hand the amount right over if it was asked for.”

“Then I don’t see how father or you could get it, unless you had that sum on deposit.”

“You don’t, eh?”

“No, I don’t.”

“Then you’re a fool.”

And Mr. Norton turned on his heel.

Suddenly a wave of light broke over me. I jumped to my feet, trembling from head to foot.

“Do you mean to say you were going to steal that money?” I demanded.

“Hush! not so loud.”

“That isn’t answering my question,” I went on, ignoring his caution.

“We were going to get that money, that’s all I have to say,” returned my guardian with a shrug of his shoulders.

“Perhaps you were, but not my father,” I cried, with flashing eyes. “You will never make me believe that he consented to do anything that was wrong!”

“You don’t know anything about it,” retorted Mr. Norton angrily. “Your father was hard up, and that was the only way to get money. It was his plan, not mine. I have always been an honest man, even though I was poor.”

“Mr. Norton, you are a villain!” I cried in high indignation. “My father never did a willfully wrong action in his life, and I won’t allow you or any other man to say he did.”

“Come, come, don’t get on a high horse,” replied my guardian. “You know just how poor your father was. His estate is deeply in my debt, and I want the money paid. I have found out that there are other claims against this mill, and that will leave you without a penny. Now if you will only listen to me, I will put you in a way of getting so much that you can leave work alone for a good while to come.”

And the man placed his hand on my shoulder as if to thus persuade me to accede to his wishes.

I threw the hand off.

“Don’t you dare to touch me!” I cried. “You are a bad man, and I will have nothing to do with you. You may be my uncle, but you are so in law only, and not in my heart.”

“Take care!” stormed Mr. Norton, now thoroughly aroused. “I won’t allow any one, least of all a boy, to talk to me like that.”

“I don’t care. I never liked you from the start, and I want you to know it. I shall not consider you my guardian any longer.”

“You won’t, eh?”

“No, sir, I won’t.”

“Then I’ll hand you over to the police the first chance I get. I can tell them a fine story about you.”

At that instant a shadow fell across my window, and looking up, we saw four men approaching the mill. They were Constable Pointer, President Webster of the Bayport Bank, and two strangers.

“Constable Pointer!” I exclaimed, as the quartet filed in.

“Ha!” cried Mr. Norton, and I saw him turn pale. “What do you men want here?”

“Reuben, we want you,” said the constable, as he placed his hand on my shoulder.

“Want me!” I cried, starting back.

“Exactly.”

“About that boat matter?” I asked.

“No, not about any boat matter,” put in President Webster. “Constable, I demand that the boy be searched.”

“What for?” I asked, and I saw that Mr. Norton was equally curious to know.

There was no reply to this, and I backed away.

“Stop, Rube,” said Pointer. “Remember you are now under arrest.”

“Arrest!” I gasped.

“Exactly, young man,” added Mr. Webster. “Search him at once.”

I was too much taken aback to protest, and the constable quickly turned my pockets inside out.

“Nothing much of value,” said Pointer.

“Are you sure?” questioned the president of the bank eagerly.

The constable made another search, and finally brought to light the stone I had picked up on the floor.

“Here is one of ’em!” he cried. “By George, Rube, to tell the honest truth, I didn’t think it of you,” he added in a lower tone.

“Didn’t think what of me?”

“That you would turn thief.”

“I haven’t done so.”

“Oh, come, it won’t do to deny this.”

“You say my nephew has turned thief?” put in Mr. Norton, pressing forward.

“Are you this boy’s uncle?” asked President Webster.

“Yes; and his guardian too.”

“It’s a pity you wouldn’t guard him better,” sneered the big man from Bayport.

“What has he stolen?” asked my guardian, with apparent deep concern.

“He’s helped to steal a bag of diamonds from one of the safes in the Bayport Bank,” returned Constable Pointer. “Is this one of the stones, Mr. Ditson?” he continued, turning to one of the strangers.

“I think it is,” was the reply, after an examination. “What do you think, Mr. Camp?” he added to the other stranger.

“I should say it was,” was the quick reply. “It ought to be plain enough that such a boy would never have a diamond of his own like this.”

“I didn’t steal that diamond!” I burst out.

“Perhaps you will state where you did get it?” remarked Mr. Webster sarcastically.

“I found it here on the floor.”

There was a general sniff at this.

“Quite likely!” said Mr. Ditson. “Diamonds are not lying around so loosely as all that. I am pretty sure, officer, you have got one of the thieves. The question is, has he any more of the stones?”

“We’ll have to search around and see,” said Pointer.

“Did you know your nephew was out last night?” asked Mr. Webster of Mr. Norton sharply.

“Yes, he was,” replied my guardian.

“How long?”

“I don’t know when he came in,” was the answer. “But, oh, sir, I cannot believe that he is a thief!”

And Mr. Norton’s voice trembled with apparent emotion.

“And neither I am!” I cried. “He was out as well as I was, and I found that stone right here on the floor early this morning.”

“Too thin,” sneered Mr. Webster. “Hold him, Pointer. Have we a right to search the house?”

“Yes, yes; search all you please,” put in Mr. Norton hastily. “If the dear boy has done wrong, let it be made right as quickly as possible!”

At that moment Ford came in. He had seen the crowd of men, and he wanted to know what was up.

“Can’t make me believe that Rube stole any diamonds!” he ejaculated, when he had heard the story. “I’d rather believe his uncle here was the guilty party.”

He had hardly spoken before Mr. Norton had him by the throat.

“You scamp!” he howled. “Call me a thief!”

CHAPTER XV.

SOME FACTS IN THE CASE.

I was completely dumfounded by the accusations that were brought against me.

The constable and the others were sure in their minds that I had stolen, or assisted at stealing, some diamonds from one of the safes in the Bayport Bank.

How they had come to track me I did not know; but I realized that the fact of my having that diamond in my possession, would carry much weight against me.

The story that I had found the stone upon the floor of the living-room of the mill was not believed, although it was the exact truth.

Mr. Norton’s manner put a sudden suspicion into my mind. He had told a deliberate falsehood in saying that I had been away from the mill the previous night. He must certainly have come in while I was sleeping in the rocker, and seen me.

He had spoken to me on the subject of obtaining money dishonestly. To my mind no fair and square man would have done so. Was Ford’s suspicion against him correct? I was half inclined to think that such was the fact.

Perhaps some of my readers will think it odd that I did not arrive at this conclusion sooner. Let them remember that I was but a boy, and that the adventure with the sloop, coupled with the news of my father’s death and my guardian’s arrival, had completely upset me. Had my mind been more at ease I might have acted differently from the start.

“Let go of me!” cried Ford sternly.

And catching Mr. Norton by the arm he shoved him several feet away.

“I won’t allow anybody to talk to me in this fashion,” went on my guardian. “The idea of insinuating that I know anything about this robbery!”

“Where did the boy spend the night?” asked Pointer, as soon as he could get a chance to talk.

“I don’t know. He didn’t come in till a little while ago,” returned Mr. Norton.

“That isn’t so!” I exclaimed. “I was here from half-past twelve until breakfast-time.”

“Where were you from seven o’clock yesterday until half past twelve?” questioned Mr. Webster sharply.

“Here most of the time. I left about half-past eleven to go after a fellow who stole some things from the mill.”

“Another thief?”

“Yes, sir. His name is Andy Carney. He came here to get square with me on account of Mr. Williams’s boat.”

“I know nothing about that,” returned the bank president.

“Where are the two men that were with you, Rube?” asked the constable.

“Two men with you?” repeated Mr. Norton, with a slight start.

“I haven’t been with any two men,” I returned. “I don’t know what you are talking about. Mr. Norton was away last night, not I.”

“You bad boy! how can you say such a thing?” burst out my guardian. “I haven’t been outside of the mill since yesterday afternoon.”

“That is not true! You went out right after supper!”

“Come, come! this is wasting time,” said Mr. Ditson. “Pointer, see if you can find any more of the diamonds.”

“Will you look after the boy?”

“Certainly.”

“You had better look after Mr. Norton,” I put in.

“What!” screamed that individual.

“My word ought to be as good as his,” I added.

“Certainly,” said Pointer. “I will have to arrest both of you.”

“Arrest me!” ejaculated my guardian, and for the moment all the color forsook his face.

“Yes, sir. You will be a witness, if nothing else. Will you go along peaceably?”

“Why—why—I suppose so,” stammered the man. “But, nevertheless, it is an outrage.”

To this the constable did not reply, but went off to search the mill for more precious stones.

While he was gone my thoughts were busy. Was my guardian the guilty party? and were the two strangers I had found at the mill his partners in the crime? It seemed more than likely.

The thought was a dismaying one, almost as disheartening to me at that instant as the fact that I was under arrest. The only relative I possessed in the world a criminal!

It was a bitter thought, and for the moment drove everything else from my mind. Meanwhile Pointer made a search of the mill and all the rooms without success.

“If there are any more of these stones here they’re well hidden,” he said. “Suppose we go to Squire Slocum’s office, and have these two put in charge, and then go after the men that helped on the burglary?”

This was considered good advice, and five minutes later the mill was locked up and we all started down the main road, Ford beside me, telling me to keep up my courage, that he was sure I was innocent, and that all would yet come right.

Half an hour later found us assembled in the squire’s office, and a brief hearing began.

I told my story “as straight as a string.” Mr. Norton tried to interrupt me a number of times, but Squire Slocum promptly shut him up, and I had a full hearing.

Then my guardian had his say. It was but little more than has been told. Squire Slocum touched several times on the fact that Mr. Norton had come to the mill under rather peculiar circumstances, to which that individual replied that that had nothing to do with the case.

“Perhaps not,” replied the squire coldly.

“But I want that matter investigated too,” I put in. “Squire Slocum, you were always a good friend to my father, and I don’t know whether this man is doing right or not according to law. I know he hasn’t acted as a fair and square guardian ought to do.”

“I will do so later, Reuben,” was the reply. “But this has nothing to do with the case on hand. You say you know nothing more, and that you feel sure those two strangers are the guilty parties?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And that Mr. Norton and Carney are also implicated?”

“I think so.”

“The boy is a rascal!” shouted my guardian. “He is—”

“Silence!” put in the squire. “I want no more interruptions from you.”

“Then I don’t want you to allow that boy—”

“Stop!” thundered Squire Slocum, who could get awfully mad at times. “Fuller,” he went on to one of the officers, “take this man to the jail.”

“To the jail!” cried Mr. Norton, falling back in astonishment. “What have I done?”

“You are wanted as a witness, besides being impertinent. You shall have another hearing this afternoon, or sooner if the other thieves are caught.”

“Other thieves! Do you consider—”

“I should have said the two thieves Pointer and the other officers are looking for,” corrected the squire. “Fuller, take Mr. Norton to jailer Harris.”

And much against his will, my guardian was led out of the court room, quite a crowd following.

“Reuben, I am sorry to see that you are mixed up in this case,” went on Squire Slocum in a lower tone.

“I am not guilty, Squire. I never helped to steal anything in my life.”

“But the case looks black for you,” was the grave reply. “We have some strong evidence against you to hold you—”

“You mean the diamond I found?”

“Not only that, but a number of other things.”

“I should like to know what evidence you have?”

“Your boat was over at Bayport last night, and did not leave until after two o’clock.”

“Mr. Norton must have used it.”

“Maybe, but that is not at present for me to decide. Then there are other things—”

“What other things?”

“A small iron bar used to pry open the safe door was found, and it had your father’s name stamped upon it.”

“That is one that belonged to the mill. Mr. Norton or any one else might have carried it off.”

“But you were seen, Reuben, in Bayport at eleven o’clock last night, and you say you were not there at all.”

“Seen!” I cried. “No, no, Squire! Who says so?”

“Several people. They saw you on Maple Avenue, right near the bank.”

“It was not I.”

“These people are sure it was. Then President Webster remembered seeing you at the bank a few days ago, and he says the janitor remembers that you hung around a good deal, just at the time Mr. Ditson delivered the diamonds to him.”

“I was waiting for Mr. Markham, who had promised me a reward for saving his son from drowning.”

“But this Markham was a very peculiar man,” went on Squire Slocum. “Webster thinks he might have had something to do with the robbery, although we cannot tell anything about it.”

“I don’t think he did. I think there is some mistake about Mr. Markham’s account, but that is all. He was a gentleman, if I am any judge.”

“We shall see. In the meantime I must place you under arrest.”

“Will you let me know as soon as these two men are found?”

“Yes.”

At this moment constable Pointer came in, and the squire told him to take me to the jailer, to be put in a cell apart from Mr. Norton.

Feeling pretty downhearted, I followed Pointer from the office to the rooms below. Here Mr. Harris, the jailer, met us, and I was given over into his charge.

“We’ll make you as comfortable as possible,” said the jailer kindly. “I know what it is to be falsely imprisoned, if that is your case. You shall have the best cell in the building, Rube.”

“What have you done with Mr. Norton?”

“Put him in a corner by himself. He raised such a fearful row.”

A moment more and I was shown into a narrow cell, the door was closed and locked behind me, and I was a prisoner.

CHAPTER XVI.

A FRIEND IN NEED.

I was a prisoner in the Bend Center jail. It was far from being a pleasant situation, and with a heavy heart I sank down into a seat and gave myself up to my bitter feelings.

For the past few days misfortunes had been piling themselves upon me, and I could not help but wonder what the end would be, or when it would be reached.

My prison was a cold, stony place, scarcely eight feet square, and lighted by one narrow window, heavily barred, and facing a high brick wall a few feet beyond.

At first I entertained some wild hope of trying to escape. The iron bars at the window were loose in the sill, and I was sure that by using all the strength at my command I could remove at least two of them, and thus make a space wide enough to allow the passage of my body.

I was on the point of putting this plan into execution when I paused and reflected that such a course would avail me nothing! I did not want to leave the district altogether, and to thus break jail would only be taken as an evidence that I was guilty of the crime charged against me.

So I sat down again, resolved to take matters as calmly as I could. There seemed to be no other prisoners in the building outside of Mr. Norton and myself; and after Squire Slocum and the crowd had left all became as silent as a graveyard.

I wondered what my guardian was doing and thinking. Certainly nothing good; for I was convinced beyond a doubt that Mr. Norton was a thorough rascal.

Presently I heard a slight scraping sound far down the corridor. I hoped fervently that Pointer or some of the other officers would capture the two strangers,—Avery and Yates,—and recover the stolen diamonds.

At noon Mr. Harris, the jailer, brought me my dinner. I asked him a number of questions, but he politely but firmly declined to answer them.

“Can’t do it, prisoner,” he said. “It’s against the rules.”

And I was left alone once more.

At length, about the middle of the afternoon, I heard a noise in the squire’s office overhead. Several men had entered, and a loud and rapid conversation was in progress. I listened, and was almost certain I distinguished the voice of Mr. Markham.

For some reason my heart gave a bound of joy. I felt sure he had come to assist me, notwithstanding all that had been said against him.

Ten minutes passed; then there was a noise on the stairs, and a moment later Squire Slocum, the jailer, and Mr. Markham appeared.

“Well, my young friend, I see they have thought best to lock you up,” remarked Mr. Markham lightly, as he stepped into the cell and extended his hand to me cordially.

“Yes, Mr. Markham, they have,” was all I could say.

He gave my hand a tight grasp.

“You are having a pile of trouble,” he went on, “and partly on my account.”

“Why, you have nothing to do with the robbery,” I put in quickly.

“No, not exactly,” he laughed; “but I have caused you trouble enough in other ways.”

“I thought you would straighten out matters some time,” I could not help replying. “I knew you were a gentleman, no matter what Mr. Webster or any one else said to the contrary.”

“Webster is a fool!” cried Mr. Markham with energy. “A downright fool, and I told him so. Just because I had a slight trouble with my bank account, brought on by my clerk, he takes it for granted that I am a swindler.”

And Mr. Markham’s eyes flashed, and he showed plainly that he was thoroughly aroused.

“I came back to Bayport to-day, in reply to a pretty sharp letter I received from Mr. Williams,” he went on. “I had important business in New York, but when I saw what an awful mess things had got into here I took the first train. Williams was another of the idiots that thought I was going to swindle him simply because I left in a great hurry without writing him a check.”

“And he was convinced I was trying to rob him of his boat,” I said.

“So I have heard. But I have fixed that matter all up with him. The boat is paid for, and is at this moment lying at the wharf here in Bend Center. She is your property, and here is the bill of sale for her.”

And Mr. Markham pulled an envelope from his pocket and passed it over.

With hands that trembled I took the bill of sale and glanced it over. True enough, it certified that for the sum of four hundred dollars the Catch Me was now the sole property of Reuben Stone.

“Thank you, Mr. Markham,” I said. “I—I—can’t say more, but I am—I am—”

“Don’t try to say more,” laughed the gentleman. “I am ashamed of myself to think that my gift should have cost you so much trouble. But you shall lose nothing by me. I have not forgotten what more I intended to do for you.”

“Well, Mr. Markham, about this other matter,” broke in Squire Slocum, who had thus far remained silent.

“True, Squire, excuse me for keeping you waiting. Stone, I am told that they hold you on a very serious charge.”

“They do,” I returned. “But I am not guilty, sir.”

“You don’t look like a fellow who would steal.”

“I never took a thing that didn’t belong to me in my life, sir.”

“I believe you.”

“Mr. Webster thinks I am guilty, but I know nothing of the matter; that is, nothing but what I have told. Mr. Webster also insinuates that you might have had something to do with it,” I added, bound that Mr. Markham should know all.

“I heard something of that sort. I have also heard that there is a streak of insanity in the Webster family,” he added, with a twinkle in his eye that made even Squire Slocum smile. “He is so upset by this robbery that he doesn’t know what he is doing. I suppose he would accuse the President if it came into his head.”

“He says you were in the office when Mr. Ditson brought in the diamonds, and that you overheard him say that they would be safe in the old vault as long as the safe of the jeweler was being repaired,” explained the squire.

“I remember seeing a gentleman come in with a small bag,” replied Mr. Markham; “but I paid no attention to what he had to say or what was done with the bag; I was too excited over my own affairs.”

“Then the diamonds belonged to Mr. Ditson and Mr. Camp?” I asked, for I was still in the dark on this point.

“Yes,” said Squire Slocum. “They are a couple of jewelers that were stopping at the Bayport Grand Hotel with some diamonds for several parties who are putting up there, or were to come. They left the diamonds at the bank for safe keeping. Mr. Webster says you saw Mr. Ditson with the stones.”

“If I did I don’t remember it,” I replied. “The janitor was very rude to me, and I soon went outside and stood by the gutter till Mr. Markham came out.”

“Mr. Webster told me you had a diamond in your possession.”

“I am willing to swear that I picked the stone up on the mill floor. It was dropped there either by Mr. Norton or Andy Carney, or else somebody that came in while I was asleep. I know that statement sounds rather queer, but it’s the plain truth.”

“You certainly stick to it,” commented the squire.

“I believe the young man,” said Mr. Markham. “And now, since I have caused him so much trouble, I think it my duty to see if I cannot help him. Can you let him out on bail?”

“I don’t know,” said Squire Slocum slowly. “We haven’t had a regular hearing yet.”

“If I’m let out I’ll be on hand whenever wanted,” I put in quickly.

“Suppose you see what can be done,” said Mr. Markham. “I will bear all the expense, Squire, and I guess I can convince you I am perfectly reliable, even if Webster won’t believe it.”

“Let us go over to Judge Green’s office in Bayport,” said Squire Slocum. “Maybe we can fix it up. I wouldn’t care to take the responsibility alone.”

This was agreed to, and the two went off at once, and the jailer locked me in once more.

But I was now lighter hearted and time passed quickly. Three hours later Mr. Markham and the squire returned, and I was let out under five thousand dollars bail.

The necessary papers had hardly been made out in Squire Slocum’s office when the jailer rushed in pale as a ghost.

“Norton has escaped!” he ejaculated.

CHAPTER XVII.

BACK TO THE MILL.

For the moment there was intense excitement among the half-dozen men who were present. The escape of a prisoner from Bend Center was an unheard-of occurrence, and for a while nobody seemed to know what to do.

“Norton escaped!” ejaculated the squire, jumping up from his chair.

“Yes, sir,” replied the jailer.

“When?”

“Some time within the past two hours.”

“How was it accomplished?”

“Broke three of the iron bars out of the window, and climbed the wall into Dr. Sand’s garden.”

“Have you any idea where the man has gone to?”

“No, sir.”

In a few minutes the bell over the village hall was rung, the news was spread that Mr. Norton had escaped, and a reward of fifty dollars was offered for his capture.

“I take it that he is guilty,” said Mr. Markham, as we stood in the squire’s office. “It is rather rough on you, Stone, but that is what I think.”

“I think so myself, sir,” I replied. “But, Mr. Markham, allow me to thank you for your kindness in going my bail. I didn’t expect it. Aren’t you afraid I will run away?”

“No, I am not. I can read faces, and I take yours to be an honest one.”

“Thank you, sir. I’ll promise not to run away.”

“What do you intend to do?” he went on. “I must get back to New York and get ready to go to Philadelphia first thing to-morrow morning.”

“You have spent a good deal of time on me, sir. I expect to go back to the mill.”

At that moment two men came up.

“They’ve found out that Norton started up the road to Hillsburg,” said one of the men. “I reckon he is going to try to make the midnight train if possible.”

“It’s a pity you can’t telegraph, and head him off,” said Mr. Markham.

“There are no wires through the Bend,” was the reply. “The place is behind in some things.”

I was silent. Was it true that Mr. Norton intended to shake the dust of the district from his feet for good?

I could not help but wish that such was a fact. Not but what I wanted to see the guilty parties punished, but I desired to have nothing more to do with the man, and would be perfectly content if he would never again approach me. I considered that I was old enough to take care of myself, and wanted no guardian of any kind excepting such a nominal one as the law might require.

A few moments later Mr. Markham and I walked down to the dock at which the Catch Me was lying. Mr. Williams had put the craft in first-class trim once more, and as I stepped on board I could not help but feel my breast swell with pride as I realized that I was the owner.

“I will take you to Bayport if you wish,” I said.

“Thank you, Stone; I would like to get over there as soon as possible.”

I hoisted the sails at once, and stood out for the opposite shore. On the way we had quite a talk; and when Mr. Markham fairly wrung the information from me that business was poor at the mill, and that money was tight, he got out two twenty dollar bills, and insisted on my taking them “on account,” as he put it.

“You are too generous,” I said, as he thrust the bills into my pocket.

“It is only a part of what I intended to give you from the start. I shall never forget what you have done for me.”

We parted at the Bayport pier, and then I steered for the mouth of the Torrent Bend River. As I skimmed over the surface of the lake I reviewed my situation in all its details.

I resolved that as soon as the mystery of the diamond robbery was cleared up, to put my father’s matters in Squire Slocum’s hands for final settlement; then if I was allowed to run the mill I would do so, and hire Ford as a regular man to help me.

During the days that grinding was slack I could go fishing in the boat, or, better yet, hire out the craft to such parties at the Bayport hotels as wished to charter her. I knew there was money in doing this, and money was what I was after.

It was dark when I ran up to the mill landing. Not a light was to be seen about the place. I fastened the Catch Me by means of a chain with a lock and key—a thing that gave me much satisfaction, as I thought it would now be no easy matter to run off with my property.

I approached the mill silently, and pushed open the door of the grinding-room. As I did so I fancied I heard the faint murmur of voices.

I stopped short and listened. I had not been mistaken; and I judged the sounds came from the room under the living apartments.

For a second I knew not what to do; then I tiptoed my way across the floor to one of the bedrooms, and carefully raised up one of the boards that I knew was loose.

The rays of a small lantern met my eyes; and by the light I saw that two men were in the room. One was the man called Yates, and the other was Mr. Enos Norton.

My surprise at seeing the latter was intense. With all the others at the Bend, I had felt sure my guardian had made his way to Hillsburg to take the midnight train.

“It was a risky thing to come back here,” I heard Yates say.

“I don’t think so,” replied Mr. Norton. “No one would think I would dare to come back; and I left the impression behind that I had gone towards Hillsburg.”

“Well, it won’t do to stay here long.”

“I know that. That’s the reason I say let us settle up at once, and clear out. This haul hasn’t been half what I thought it would be, and I want the matter ended.”

“It’s a pity you broke jail,” went on Yates, with a sniff. “That was a give-away.”

“I know it; but things were getting too hot. That boy is smarter than he looks.”

“Pshaw! You are losing all nerve. Hist! here comes some one.”

The light went out instantly. Then a voice was heard saying it was all right. The light was turned on again, and I saw that the man called Avery had entered.

“All right?” asked the other two.

“There’s a boat at the dock,” replied Avery in a whisper.

“Who’s aboard?”

“No one.”

“Is it that Carney’s boat?” asked Mr. Norton eagerly.

“I don’t think it is. It’s a larger craft.”

“Then it must belong to the police!” cried Yates. “We must get right out of here.”

“But about dividing those stones?” asked Avery.

“We can’t do it now. Remember, we lost one the other night in our hurry; it won’t do to lose more.”

“Then come.”

The three at once left the room. I heard them cross the road and strike out for the shore above, and then with my heart beating rapidly I stole after them.

It was intensely dark, and it was with difficulty that I kept them in sight; but they moved slowly, and that was in my favor.

At length we reached the shore above the mill. Here a small boat was lying, and the three prepared to go on board.

Suddenly Mr. Norton uttered an exclamation.

“Pshaw! I’ve forgotten something!”

“What’s that?” asked Yates.

“There is something at the mill I want to take along. Will you wait till I run back for it?”

“It’s risky,” said Avery.

“I’ll run the chance. If I get caught I’ll give the alarm.”

And with this the man jumped back to shore, and made for the very place where I was in hiding.

I tried to spring to one side; but in doing so I made considerable noise. It was heard, and a moment later the man recognized me.

“Reuben!” he ejaculated. “When did you escape?”

Without replying I made for the mill. But Mr. Norton was after me, and as I reached the door he collared me.

“When did you escape?” he repeated.

“I got out just a little while before you did,” I replied; and I did not see the necessity of adding that I was on bail.

“And what are you doing here?” he demanded.

“That is my business.”

“You have been spying on us.”

I was silent.

“Is that your boat down at the pier?”

“Yes.”

“You are alone?”

“Why do you ask that question?”

“Answer me.”

“I don’t care to.”

He eyed me savagely.

“You had better!” he cried. “Do you know you are in my power, boy?”

“No, I don’t.”

“Well, you are.”

“I don’t see it,” I replied stoutly.

“You are smart, but not smart enough,” went on Mr. Norton; “and I want to know at once whether you are with us or against us.”

“I will never side with a set of thieves!” I burst out warmly, indignant at such a proposition.

“Well, then, suit yourself,” he replied.

He had hardly spoken before he sprang upon me. I was taken by surprise, and before I could realize it I was on my back and he was on top of me.

“Let me up!” I cried.

“Not much. If you want to be an enemy to your own uncle and his friends be so; but you have got to take the consequences.”

We had a short struggle after this without more words.

I did my best to get away, but it was useless. Mr. Norton was thoroughly aroused, and his muscles were like iron. Drawing back his hand, he hit me between the eyes, and before I could recover he caught up a rope and bound me hand and foot.

CHAPTER XVIII.

A MOMENT OF EXCITEMENT.

“Now we’ll see who is master here!” cried Mr. Norton, after he had succeeded in rendering me powerless.

“What do you intend to do?” I asked in alarm.

“Never mind; you will find out quick enough, never fear.”

Saying this, Mr. Norton dragged me into the mill, and up the stairs into the grain-bin.

“Now stay there until you free yourself,” he said harshly. “And remember that I am not to be overcome by a boy like you.”

“You are a villain,” was all I could say in return.

“Perhaps so; but I won’t have you talking to me like that,” he returned.

And raising his heavy boot, he gave me a kick in the side that caused me to cry out with pain.

“Now good-by to you,” he went on. “You will never see me again.”

“I trust I never shall,” I replied bitterly.

In a moment he was gone and I was left to my own reflections. I heard him tramp around down-stairs for several minutes, and then all became silent.

No sooner had he left me than I began to tug at the ropes that bound me. But Mr. Norton had done his work well, and at the end of five minutes I found myself as secure as ever.

I was lying flat on my back, and found it impossible to rise. For a while I thought to raise my voice, and did so several times, but then ceased under the impression that no one was within hearing distance.

A rat came out of his hole and scrambled over my legs. This startled me, and I raised quite a racket which made him disappear in a hurry.

Ten minutes passed, and all was as silent as before. Would I have to lie there until morning, or longer, and leave the three robbers to escape? It seemed more than likely.

Presently I thought I heard a sound at the door of the lower mill room. I listened intently and was sure I was not mistaken.

“Help! help!” I cried at the top of my lungs.

The sound stopped, and I repeated my calls.

“Who is that?” cried a voice.

“It is I, Reuben Stone.”

“Where are you?”

“Up in the grain-bin.”

“Are you alone?” was asked; and now I recognized Ford’s tones.

“Yes, Dan; come up and untie me.”

At once there was a tramping on the stairs, and then Ford appeared, carrying one of the mill lanterns.

“Why, Reuben, who put you here?” he exclaimed, as he bent down and freed me.

“Mr. Norton.”

“Your uncle? Why I thought he had sneaked away to Hillsburg.”

“So does everybody else,” I returned, as I jumped to my feet. “But he was here less than half an hour ago with those other two thieves.”

“You don’t tell me! Where have they gone?”

“They have a boat up in the cove above. They are going to some point on the lake.”

“Phew! Lucky I came along.”

“Yes, Dan, lucky for me. What brought you?”

“Well, I got to thinking that it wasn’t right to let the mill stand alone, and I told mother I was going over and take possession for you till everything was straightened out.”

“Thank you, Dan; it’s a good deal to do, and so late at night too. Do you know what I have a mind to do?” I added suddenly.

“What?”

“Follow these men. I know they are the three robbers, and even if one of them is my uncle, I want them brought to justice.”

“Have you got a boat?”

“Yes; the Catch Me. Mr. Markham has straightened everything out, and the boat is mine.”

“Good! Well, if you go after them, I will go along. It isn’t safe for you to go alone.”

“Thanks. I would like to have you along first-rate.”

“Where is your boat?”

“Down at the dock.”

“I didn’t see her as I came up.”

“She is there—unless Mr. Norton took her,” I added, with a sudden sinking of the heart.

“I’m positive there was no boat there when I came up, for I looked for the regular mill sloop.”

By this time we had gone down-stairs. I rushed outside and down to the pier. Sure enough the Catch Me had disappeared.

I gave a groan as I made the discovery. Ford shook his head.

“Mr. Norton is a bad man and no mistake. He’s the kind of a relative that no one wants,” he exclaimed decidedly.

“You are right, Dan. I would rather be alone in the world ten times over than have him for my uncle. How my father ever took up with him in the West I cannot imagine.”

“Perhaps he hid his real nature when he was with your father,” suggested Ford. “Smart rogues can do that very easily, you know.”

“He didn’t deceive me much. I didn’t like him from the start.”

“Nor I. But you know your father was a very easy-going man.”

“He never wrote to me about Mr. Norton,” I returned; and then to change the subject, which was so disagreeable to me, I went on, “but the question is now, what is best to do?”

“I don’t know. Suppose we take a look up and down the shore for the boat. He most likely went off with those other men and merely sent the Catch Me adrift.”

“True. We will make an examination. You can go down the shore, and I will go up. The signal to come will be a whistle, or in case of danger the hoot of an owl.”

This was agreed to, and we separated at once. I started along the shore very slowly, keeping my eyes open, and stopping often to scan the darkness that overhung Rock Island Lake.

At length I reached the spot where the boat belonging to the thieves had been lying. It was gone, and not a trace of where.

I, however, for some reason, decided that the trio had embarked for Rock Island. Perhaps I was mistaken, but I thought that the most likely place for such men to seek. The island was a wild and rocky place, and provided they could get enough to eat and drink, they could stay there a month without the authorities discovering their hiding-place.

As I walked on, I wondered what Andy Carney had had to do with the whole affair, and what had become of the fellow and the stuff he had taken from the mill. I was particularly anxious about the valise, and the letters he had said it contained. I was sure they related in some manner to my affairs, and if I had them would not have hesitated to read them on the spot.

At length I reached the place where the shore became marshy, and then I concluded to retrace my steps, satisfied that nothing could be gained by proceeding farther.

I had hardly decided on this point before I heard Ford whistle, not once, but several times.

I turned, and picked my way back as fast as I could.

Ford continued to whistle, and I answered him.

“Rube! Rube!” he shouted.

“I’m coming!” I returned.

“Hurry up!” he shouted. “Hurry! hurry!”

“I’m coming as fast as I can,” I cried, and I pressed forward as quickly as the rocks and the undergrowth would permit.

“Something is the matter,” went on Ford. “We must have help as soon as possible.”

“What’s up?” I asked, as I bounded into the clearing that surrounded the mill.

“The mill is on fire! Just look at that end of the roof and the top of the shed!”

I started, and did as directed. Sure enough it was as Ford said. The building was afire in two distinct places!

“Mr. Norton did that!” I burst out.

“I believe you. He meant to burn you up alive. What a scoundrel he is!”

“What can we do, Dan?” I asked, with my heart in my throat as I thought of the destruction of the mill portion of my father’s estate. “Can we put it out?”

“Put it out! I guess not. Just look at those flames, getting bigger and bigger every minute! I am afraid Mr. Norton did his work so well that the old mill is doomed!”

“We must put it out!” I cried. “We can’t let the mill go down in this fashion. We must get water and a ladder or something, and put the fire out.”

“I’ll do anything you say, Rube, but I don’t think you can. Better try to save some of the things in the rooms.”

“No; I’m either going to save the mill or nothing,” I returned with a grim determination.

And I dashed off to see what I could do towards subduing the flames, which were each instant growing more fierce and destructive.

CHAPTER XIX.

LIVELY WORK.

The mill was afire in two places, and unless something was done very quickly the conflagration would be beyond all control, and the place would be consumed.

With a cry to Ford to follow me, I dashed into the lower room and brought out a couple of pails that stood handy.

“Here are pails,” I said. “Can you reach down and fill at the wheel? I’ll go and raise the ladder to the shed.”

“All right,” replied Ford. “Wish there was somebody here to help us.”

“I’ll fire the gun,” I went on.

And bringing the weapon out I did so.

Then I ran around to the other side of the building, where a long ladder was lying, and raised this up to the shed top. By this time Ford had the water; and climbing up I poured it over the burning woodwork.

“Good!” shouted the mill-hand. “Throw down the pails, and I’ll fill them again!”

I did so. While he was gone I stripped off my coat and beat some of the fire out as best I could. When he returned I soaked the coat before throwing the water on the flames, and before long I had the fire on the shed completely extinguished.

But meanwhile the flames on the main roof had gained considerable headway. I raised the ladder, but found it would be too short to be of service.

“Can’t do anything with the ladder!” I cried. “We’ll have to get at the fire from the inside.”

“You’ll be smothered,” remonstrated Ford.

“I hope not; any way, I’m going to try it.”

Taking a pail in each hand, I entered the mill and dashed up the narrow stairway, and into the garret room. Here all was thick with smoke, and at one end I could see the flames.

Rushing up, I dashed all the water on the flames. It took as long as I could hold my breath, and then I ran to the open window and yelled to Ford.

“Fill the pails, Dan, and bring them up to the door!”

He caught the pails as I threw them down, and dashed off. Meanwhile I cleaned out the corner where the fire was located, and stamped out some of the flames with my feet. It was hot work, and dangerous, but in my excitement I gave the matter no thought.

Pretty soon the door opened, and Ford appeared with more water. This I was careful to throw where it would do the most good, and saw with delight that we had somewhat checked the progress of the conflagration.

“Two or four more will do the work,” I said. “I will go down with you.”

And down we went, three steps at a time, he leading. I knew where there was a big tin wash-boiler, and got this.

Under ordinary circumstances it would have been impossible for me to carry the boiler full of water, but now I lifted it with ease, under the excitement of the moment. I was close behind Ford; and we did our best to make every gill of water count.

“We’ve got the best of the fire!” he exclaimed as he brushed the perspiration from his face. “Two more pails and it will be drowned out completely.”

While he was gone I made a minute examination, to see that no sparks were lodged where they could do harm. All such I knocked out with my wet coat. When Ford returned, he also went over the ground; and both of us declared the fire was out.

“And I never thought we could do it,” he panted. “Rube, you deserve credit!”

“Not a bit more than you, Dan. But it was tough work. Let us get out into the fresh air.”

The shot from the gun had brought no one to the spot. We went down-stairs, and seated ourselves on the stump of a tree on the opposite side of the road, where we could see at once if there was any breaking out of the fire again; and here we took a long rest, and got some pure air into our lungs.

“There is no doubt in my mind but that Norton intended to burn you up,” remarked Ford as he took a deep breath.

“I think so myself,” I replied with a shudder; “but oh, what a horrible thought that is!”

“He is a thoroughly bad egg,” went on my helper. “Even if he ever gets out of this scrape, which I don’t believe, I wouldn’t have anything to do with him.”

“I don’t intend to,” I replied. “I shall never claim him as my uncle, you may be sure of that.”

When we rested and got over the effects of the smoke, we entered the mill, and made ourselves comfortable in the living-room. We talked over the damage that had been done, and reached the conclusion that it could be repaired by ourselves.

“And as you have some shingles on the place, it won’t cost you a cent of money,” said Ford.

I told him I intended to remain at the mill over night, and he readily agreed to stay with me. I hung up my wet coat to dry, and then both of us retired, but slept, as the saying is, “with one eye open” until sunrise.

“Well, what do you intend to do now?” asked Ford as we sat down to breakfast.

“I’m going to hunt up the Catch Me,” I replied. “I am worried for fear Mr. Norton has misused her out of sheer revenge.”

“You said Mr. Markham had given her to you?”

“Yes. He settled with Mr. Williams.”

And I told my helper the whole story.

“And I want to find the Catch Me, and see if she’s all right; for I expect to make quite a sum of money out of her during the summer. When we are not very busy, I intend to leave you in charge of the mill, and to go fishing, or rent out the boat to the hotel boarders.”

“A good idea. But I fancy you won’t do much till this robbery is cleared up.”

“I suppose not.”

“Remember, you are only out on bail. They may make out a case against you when it comes to trial.”

“I don’t see how they can. I had nothing to do with the robbery.”

“But they found the diamond on you, and Norton may swear that you were with the crowd. He seemed mean enough for anything.”

We had soon finished breakfast; indeed, Ford’s last words took away all my appetite, and then we started for the lake.

“I intend to follow the shore all the way to the Bend,” I said. “If I do not come across the Catch Me before that time, I will borrow some boat and take a sail around the lake.”

“That’s a good idea. Of course you want me to go along.”

“If you will, Dan. I will pay you the same as if you were working up at the mill.”

“Don’t want any pay, Rube. I want to see you squared up and in full possession of your own.”

I had locked up the mill securely, and hung out the slate for any orders that might come in. Then we started down the lake shore, keeping our eyes wide open for anything unusual that might present itself.

“They are a sly crowd,” remarked Ford as we hurried along. “It is my opinion that the three had this matter planned out before your uncle ever came to the Bend.”

“It would seem so,” I returned. “But I don’t understand it. Mr. Norton came as soon as he could after my father’s death.”

“Maybe he had something to do with your father’s death,” suggested my helper. “A man who would try to burn up a boy wouldn’t stop at anything.”

I shuddered. The idea was so horrible I could not reply.

We skirted the cove where the stranger’s boat had been tied up several days before. Here, as I have said, the bushes were heavy, and any craft could be well hidden.

“I would like to know what they have done with my old boat,” I said, as we peered right and left. “She wasn’t worth much, but she would be mighty handy just now.”

“That’s true,” replied Ford.

Then he gave a sudden start, plunged ahead, and disappeared around some rocks.

“Hi! what are you doing way in there?” I cried.

He did not reply, and I went after him. Suddenly he returned, and laying his hand on my shoulder, cautioned me to silence.

“What is it?” I whispered.

He shook his head to indicate he was not sure.

Then as silently as possible we picked our way through the bushes that lined the inlet. We passed on fully fifty feet, and then Ford stopped and pointed ahead.

“I don’t see anything.”

“Look over to your left, Rube.”

“Beyond the blackberry bushes?”

“Yes.”

I looked, and saw a boat hidden behind some trees. It was a strange looking craft, and I was for the moment disappointed to think that it was not the mill boat or the Catch Me.

“Whose boat?” I whispered.

“It is Andy Carney’s,” answered Ford. “Keep quiet until we find out if he is anywhere around.”

CHAPTER XX.

WE MAKE A PRISONER.

I was astonished by Ford’s words and came very near uttering a sudden cry; but my helper pressed his hand over my mouth, thus effectually preventing any sound from coming forth.

“Carney may be around,” he went on softly; “and if so we must try to capture him.”

I nodded; and then we continued our way towards the boat.

I had brought the gun with me, and now I examined it to see if it was in condition for immediate use. I was aware of the desperate character of the man with whom we had to deal, and I did not intend to run any more chances than were necessary.

Presently we heard a noise to the left, and Carney appeared. He carried a pail of spring water, and with this went on board his boat.

“We’ve got him,” whispered Ford. “Stand by to shoot if necessary, or else give me the gun.”

“I’ll take care of the gun. Let us creep up and surprise him.”

“I’ll go ahead, and call on him to surrender, while you point the gun at his head. That will bring him to terms,” said Ford.

And he jumped aboard Carney’s sloop.

“Hullo, Carney!” he called out.

There was a second of silence, and then Andy Carney’s face appeared at the entrance to the cuddy.

“What do you want?” he demanded, with an ugly look on his face.

“We want you,” replied my helper. “Come out of that at once!”

“I’ll come out when I please,” was the sullen response.

“No, you won’t; you’ll come out now.”

“Who made you boss over me?” demanded the fisherman.

“Nobody; but you’ve got to come. Do you see that?”

And he pointed to the gun, which I held to my shoulder.

Carney looked at the weapon, and turned pale.

“Put that down!” he cried.

“Not a bit of it,” I returned. “You have got to do as Ford says. I give you two minutes in which to make up your mind.”

“I won’t come.”

“I think you will.”

And I moved over to where I could get a better range at his head.

He ducked, and then came out slowly, and faced Ford.

“If you were alone I would soon do you up,” he hissed.

“But I am not alone,” laughed my helper. “Hold out your hands.”

“What for?”

“I’m going to bind them.”

“Do as Ford says,” I put in. “We mean business, Carney.”

The fisherman hesitated for a moment, and then held out his hands. Ford caught up a bit of rope, and soon had the wrists crossed and tightly bound.

“Now watch him, Rube, while I shove the boat out.”

“What are you going to do with me?” asked Carney anxiously.

“Take you to Bend Center.”

“What for?”

“You’ll see fast enough.”

In a moment Ford had the sloop afloat; and with the three of us on board he ran up the mainsail, steered out of the inlet, and down the lake.

“What have you done with the things you stole?” I asked, as I sat down to watch our prisoner.

“Didn’t steal anything,” replied Carney sullenly.

“So you expect to deny it?” I went on.

He would not answer, and I did not question him farther. I wished to examine the cuddy of the sloop, but could get no chance to do so, for Ford was busy sailing the craft, and I thought it would not be safe to leave Carney unwatched even for a moment.

It did not take us long to reach the wharf at the Point. Here a small crowd soon surrounded us; for the report of the robbery had made a good many men suspend work and keep a lookout for the robbers.

Ford marched Carney up to Squire Slocum’s office. I lingered behind to make an examination of the cuddy.

It was not long before I found all the articles that had belonged to the mill stored in the forward hold. I also found Mr. Norton’s valise; but it had been broken open, and was empty.

This last discovery filled me with dismay, for I had counted on the contents of the valise clearing up part of the mystery surrounding the man who had treated me so harshly. Whether Carney had thrown the letters away or hidden them I could not tell.

As soon as I had finished my investigation, I followed the others to the squire’s office. I found Squire Slocum examining Carney, and ready to hear what I might say.

“I will lock him up, and we will have a full hearing to-morrow,” said Squire Slocum after I had finished. “I am in a hurry this morning. I will send a message to Pointer, telling him about the meeting last night at the mill. I wish you had let me know as soon as possible, but I suppose you were worn out.”

“Both that, and besides the fire drove it out of my mind,” I replied.

“And that was the case with me,” added Ford.

“I will also have a man take charge of Carney’s boat,” went on the squire. “We now have three different boats with detectives on board sailing the lake, and perhaps we’ll catch these fellows before night.”

“Ford and I are going after them too,” I returned.

“Well, every one counts,” said the squire with a smile.

I could see that he was in a terrible hurry, and as soon as the fisherman was given in charge of the jailer we left.

On my way to the wharf I ran against Tom Darrow. He was glad to see me out.

“And glad to know that Markham proved to be a gentleman,” he added. “And that reminds me, Gus Lowell found your mill-boat over to Summer’s Point. He brought it over to Ray’s dock.”

This was welcome news, and it would not now be necessary to borrow a boat in which to go after Mr. Norton and his two confederates. I ran down to the place that Tom had mentioned, and was soon at the wharf in my own boat.

Ford came on board, and we set out on a voyage of discovery, as he termed it. Darrow would have liked to accompany us, but said he had work on hand, having an order for forty pounds of fish for one of the Bayport hotels.

“And it don’t pay to let such an order slip by,” he added. “Not when prices are high and biting is good.”

“Where do you intend to go first?” asked Ford when we were well on our way.

“I think the fellows made for Rock Island,” I said.

“That’s my idea, though both of us may be mistaken.”

“The island makes a good hiding-place,” I went on. “But still they can’t stay there forever, and I take it they would rather leave the neighborhood entirely.”

“They can’t do that if all the roads are guarded, and Squire Slocum said such was a fact. They would have a sweet job trying to get through the woods.”

“It’s a wonder they committed the robbery when the chances to escape were so slim.”

“I guess they thought to get away before the crime was discovered. Mr. Webster said it was only by accident that it was not allowed to run on till noon or later. The old vault, in which the safe was situated where the diamonds were placed, is not used for storing the regular bank-funds, and besides, Mr. Merton, the cashier, rarely gets to the bank as early as he did on the morning following the robbery.”

“It was all known beforehand among the three men,” I went on. “But how did they get their knowledge?”

“Mr. Camp, one of the jewelers, says he thinks he knows this Avery, but he is not sure. The description is all right; but the name of the man he knew was Denting.”

“A name among such fellows is easily changed.”

“Of course. But then—hullo, whose boat is that?”

Ford pointed to where a large sloop had just passed beyond a point of land just ahead.

“I didn’t see much of her,” I replied.

“She looked to me like the Catch Me.”

“The Catch Me!”

“Exactly. I might have been mistaken.”

“Who can be on board?”

“We’ll see when we round the point. Hold up. Now let her go. The wind is getting fresh and no mistake. There is the boat. What do you think of her?”

I gave a long and searching look.

“It is the Catch Me beyond a doubt,” I cried. “Who can it possibly be that is sailing her?”

“There is only one man on board as far as I can see,” replied Ford.

“It is Mr. Norton!” I ejaculated a moment later.

CHAPTER XXI.

A STORM ON THE LAKE.

The announcement that the person in the other boat was the very one for whom we and the detectives were hunting, was so surprising that for a moment Ford could hardly believe it was a fact.

“You are sure?”

“Exactly. Don’t you remember that curious hat he wore?”

“I do, now you speak of it. I wonder where he is bound?”

“We’ll soon find out,” I replied decidedly.

“Do you mean to follow him?”

“Not only follow him, but catch him, Dan.”

“You really mean it, though he is your uncle?”

“I certainly do.”

When I told Ford that I intended to follow Mr. Norton, and capture him if possible, I meant every word I said.

The fact that the man posed as my uncle must have nothing to do with my feelings. He was a criminal, and must be handed over to the authorities.

I let out the mainsail, and ran up the jib to its fullest. This sent us forging ahead, and we began to close up the distance that separated the two crafts.

“I think we’ll overtake the Catch Me in a quarter of an hour,” I said, after I had done all I could to increase our speed.

“We will if this breeze holds out, and he doesn’t trim the sails,” replied Ford. “He is carrying too much canvas.”

“I suppose Mr. Norton is not much of a sailor, or he would run right away from us. The Catch Me is a far better boat than the Mary.”

“Of course; but his lack of knowledge is to our benefit.”

“I don’t like the looks of those clouds over there,” I went on, pointing over to the west. “That is a regular squall quarter.”

“If we catch anything like that, it will be look out all around!” laughed my helper.

In five minutes we were within hard hailing-distance of the other boat; and then Ford called out through his hands, using them as a speaking-trumpet,—

“Sloop ahoy!”

There was no reply, and he repeated the call.

“He doesn’t intend to answer,” I remarked. “But see, he is trimming his sails. He intends to get away if possible. I wonder if he recognizes us?”

“Shouldn’t wonder. He’s foolish for taking in sail now, when the wind is dying out,” added Ford.

“I don’t know about that. We may have more wind than we want presently.”

And I pointed to a heavy cloud that was scurrying over.

“By George! I think you are right!” exclaimed the mill-hand. “That looks nasty, and no mistake!”

A moment later the wind died out utterly. We almost came to a standstill, and immediately dropped all sails. The Catch Me did the same, but not before she had been carried a goodly distance farther away.

“Here it comes!” I shouted, as a long, low line of white swept up from the south. “Hold fast, Dan!”

“I’m all right, Rube; look out for yourself.”

He had hardly spoken before the first brush of the squall was upon us. It caused the water to foam and dash on all sides, and the Mary bobbed up and down as if she was a cork.

Then came a heavy puff of wind that sent us driving onward, and made us ship fully half a dozen pails of water. I began to bail out; and seeing this, Ford set to helping me.

A moment later the sky was fairly black, and it began to rain, first lightly, but soon in a perfect torrent. We had but scant protection, and it did not take long for the water to get to our very skins, making us far from comfortable.

“Do you see anything of the Catch Me?” I shouted, so as to be heard above the roaring of the wind.

“No; the rain hides everything,” replied Ford. “Wonder how long this squall is going to last?”

“They never last very long; but we must keep on bailing, or we will be swamped.”

After this we were silent for perhaps ten minutes. I could not help but shiver, and I saw that my companion did the same.

“I think it is letting up on the blow,” said Ford presently.

“It is; but it’s raining as hard as ever.”

Five minutes later the shower stopped short, and the clouds began to scatter.

“The squall is over. They are always short, sharp, and nasty. Let us hoist the mainsail, and continue our chase.”

Easier said than done. Under cover of the squall the Catch Me had slid out of sight.

“Then we’ll make for Rock Island. I am satisfied that that is the place for which Mr. Norton was bound. It is more than likely he has been off to get some provisions.”

“Shouldn’t wonder but what you were right, Rube. Shall we make for the south shore?”

“That is as good as any. We can watch out for the Catch Me, and by getting her away leave the robbers without a means of quitting the place.”

“True! I never thought of that. The south shore it is.”

Presently the setting sun came out, and we made arrangements to dry our clothing. Luckily there were a couple of old suits in the cuddy of the sloop, and these were put on in the meanwhile.

In half an hour we were in sight of the island, and then we took a reef in the mainsail, and lowered the jib.

“We want to be as careful as possible,” I said. “These men are desperate, and they may be on the watch for any one who comes along.”

“You’ve got the gun.”

“I know that; but it isn’t much to depend on in a tight corner.”

In a moment we were within a hundred feet of the rocky shore. Nothing was to be seen of a boat of any kind.

“It is evident that Mr. Norton didn’t land here,” I said, “unless he pulled his boat ’way up in the bushes; and that I don’t believe, for the Catch Me is a heavy craft to handle.”

“Shall we go around to the east or west?” asked my companion.

“Suppose we go to the west. It really doesn’t matter much.”

So we set our course for the west coast of Rock Island. We had hardly gone half a dozen rods before Ford caught me by the shoulder.

“We made a lucky choice!” he cried. “There is the spot where the man we are after landed!”

“How do you know?” I questioned eagerly.

“Because there is the Catch Me in the bushes beyond.”

“Has he left her, do you think?” I asked in considerable excitement.

“I think so. I will go ahead and see. Hold your gun in case he intends to surprise us.”

I did so; and Ford went forward and landed on the rocks. He was gone fully five minutes.

“No one around,” he said, upon his return.

“Maybe Mr. Norton has gone off to warn the others,” I suggested.

“Perhaps he has. Any way I didn’t see a soul.”

“Hadn’t we better get the Catch Me out into the lake? Then we can land and hide the Mary in another place.”

“That’s a good plan,” said Ford. “Come ahead.”

It was no easy job to get out the larger boat. But finally it was accomplished, and the big craft was anchored fully quarter of a mile away from the shore.

“Now, if they haven’t another boat, they are prisoners,” I said. “That is, if we can hide the Mary where they can’t find her.”

“I know a spot, a little farther up the shore,” said my companion. “Let us try that.”

We hoisted the sail once more and stood up the shore fully an eighth of a mile. Then Ford took the tiller, and headed the craft for a deep and narrow inlet, guarded on both sides by high rocks and heavy bushes.

“Now, if they haven’t seen us, I guess they will never find the Mary.”

“I think I’d have a job finding her myself,” I laughed. “It’s so dark I can hardly see a thing!”

We lowered the sails and pushed the Mary as deep into the bushes as possible. Then we jumped ashore, tied fast, and hurried back to the spot where the Catch Me had been beached.

“There ought to be some tracks in the mud,” I said. “See how soft the rain has made the soil.”

“It would be easy enough to follow the man if it wasn’t for the rocks,” returned Ford. “But we will do what we can, and that, too, without waste of time. It will be a feather in our cap if we capture the whole crowd.”

“Here are footprints,” I went on. “Do you see, they lead from this place where the Catch Me struck over those rocks to the north?”

“That’s so. Let us see if we can catch them again beyond the rocks. Come, don’t make any more noise than you can help.”

We walked on with our heads bent close to the ground. When we reached the spot where the rocks ended and the marshland began, we could for the moment distinguish nothing.

“It’s lost,” said Ford soberly.

“No; here it is,” I whispered, “and quite fresh, if I am not mistaken.”

“An hour more and we’ll be lost in the dark. It must be every bit of five o’clock.”

“Yes; and later. We lost a good deal of time down at the Bend.”

After this we followed the footprints in silence.

They took a roundabout course over the marshes, for which Rock Island was noted, and then gradually struck a direct path leading to the north.

I was ahead, and carried the gun in such a fashion that it could be brought into instant use.

“Go slower,” cautioned Ford; “they can’t be far away.”

I slowed up, and listened intently. Some distance ahead I fancied I heard the murmur of voices.

I nodded to Ford, and he came up close.

“They are just ahead,” I whispered into his ear. “I wonder if there isn’t some sort of a hut beyond?”

He shook his head.

With my heart beating loudly I continued to advance, my companion close behind me. Presently we came to a number of big rocks, the ones, in fact, from which the island derives its name. Here we halted and listened once more.

“You say some one followed you?” we heard the voice of Avery say.

“Yes; two men,” was Mr. Norton’s reply. “I couldn’t make them out. They must be close to the island by this time.”

“Then we must divide the booty, and get out as fast as possible,” said another; and I knew it was the man called Yates. “Put all the stones together, boys, here on this board, and we’ll draw lots for them, after dividing them into three parts.”

Then I crawled up the rocks and peered over.

Beyond was a rude shelter of boards, and sitting beneath it were the trio of robbers, with the stolen diamonds spread out before them.

CHAPTER XXII.

AN INTERESTING CONVERSATION.

The sight of the three men with the stolen diamonds spread out between them was an interesting one to Ford and myself. The trio had a lantern, and in the rays of this the precious stones sparkled radiantly.

“If we could only dash in and scoop the pile,” whispered my companion.

“We want to scoop the men as well,” I whispered in return. “It won’t do to let them escape now we have found out their hiding-place.”

There was a brief silence, and then Mr. Norton continued,—

“We’ve had a harder time getting this stuff than we anticipated, boys. If I had known what a job it would be I would never have agreed to the plan when it came up.”

“It wouldn’t have been so hard if you had listened to my way,” put in Yates. “I can’t see why you wanted to drag in that boy over at the mill.”

“That’s because you are not up to all the tricks of the trade,” laughed Norton. “If he had been anyway pliable we would all have escaped without half trying, and perhaps with more booty.”

“Oh, I understand it’s a big thing to stand in with some one in the neighborhood,” remarked Avery. “It helped me considerable in Baltimore. But this plan was so roundabout.”

“That was because things happened as they did,” replied Mr. Norton. “If I hadn’t fallen in with Stone out West everything would have been different.”

“Well, we’ve got the stones, and now the thing is to get out of the neighborhood as quickly as possible,” said Avery. “You are known, and I suppose we will be soon.”

“Yes.” Mr. Norton paused. “Come, let us examine the diamonds, and divide them as evenly as possible.”

“All right. There are just fifteen of them, not counting the one that was lost in the mill when you drugged the boy,” said Yates. “Who is to lose that?”

“I drugged the boy for the good of the party,” explained Mr. Norton; “it was better and handier than tying him. I am sure he doesn’t know a thing of what happened that night.”

“Don’t be too sure of that,” I muttered.

In the meanwhile the diamonds were carefully examined, and after many comments divided into three little heaps. Then Mr. Norton got out some strips of paper, and they drew lots.

I motioned for Ford to follow me to a spot some distance away.

“What shall we do?” he asked, as soon as we were out of hearing.

“They are getting ready to leave,” I said. “One of us ought to let the police know. It is impossible for us to capture the three of them.”

“One of us ought to stay here,” said my companion.

“Suppose I do that?” I suggested. “You can take the Mary and run over to Bayport, and return as quickly as possible.”

“But if they leave in the meanwhile?”

“Then I will follow them, and leave directions on a slip of paper pinned to this tree, so that you can follow.”

“That’s a good idea. But aren’t you afraid to stay alone?”

“No.”

“Don’t let them discover you. Remember, a boy can’t stand much show against three men.”

“I’ll be careful, Dan. Of course you know enough to come back as soon as possible.”

“Trust me for that, even if I have to come alone. I won’t be gone more than an hour and a half.”

“All right. Now you had better start without delay.”

A moment later Ford was gone. For an instant my heart sank as I realized that I was alone. Then I pulled myself together, and resolved that come what might I would do all in my power to capture the three lawless men.

I tiptoed my way back to the spot where the trio were sitting, discussing the best plan for leaving Rock Island.

“It will be risky business to use the Catch Me,” observed Mr. Norton. “Somebody might be on the lookout for that craft, and the moment we were spotted that would be the end of the whole matter.”

“One thing is certain,” put in Yates, “we must leave before daylight if possible. To remain longer, when all the police are on our track, is foolish. The question is, are we going together, or are we going to separate?”

“I move we separate,” said Avery. “It will lessen the chances of capture. We can come together in Philadelphia.”

“It’s no fool of a job getting away in this darkness,” remarked Yates. “It’s as dark as pitch, and I don’t know a thing about the island or the lake shore.”

“You are no worse off than I,” replied Avery. “I’ve only been around for a few days, and those were spent principally about Bayport.”

“Let us go down to the shore, and see how the land lays,” suggested Mr. Norton.

This was agreed to, and a moment later the three rose and made a move for the spot where the Catch Me had landed.

When they were out of sight I hastily struck a match and scrawled these words on a bit of paper:—

“Gone to shore where the Catch Me was beached.”

This brief message I pinned fast to the bark of a tree and then followed the men.

As I moved along my thoughts were busy, thinking over what I had heard. It was a surprise to me to learn that the robbery had been so perfectly planned, and that I had been dragged into it because to do so was a trick “of the trade,” whatever that might mean.

Mr. Norton and his actions were a perfect mystery to me. He had taken such pains to establish himself as my guardian, and now he seemed willing to let the whole matter drop. Of course he had not expected to be discovered as one of the robbers of the bank, but for all that I—well, I simply couldn’t understand the man.

The men moved along swiftly, and in order to keep them in sight, I had to approach quite close to them. In doing this I was injudicious, and when they suddenly halted, I nearly ran over them.

I checked myself as quickly as possible, but not before I had made considerable noise, which reached the ears of the entire party at once.

“What was that?” exclaimed Mr. Norton.

“Somebody following us!” cried Avery. “Hullo, there! who are you?” he called out, as he made a dash back.

I made no reply, but continued to retreat. In a moment the whole party were in pursuit.

“We must catch him, whoever he is,” cried Mr. Norton. “I shouldn’t wonder if it is one of the fellows that followed me in the boat.”

“Why not leave him go and skip ourselves?” asked Yates, halting.

“No, no,” put in Avery. “If he is alone he will put others on our track. He has overheard all we have said. Catch him!”

And they made after me with renewed vigor.

But I was nimble of foot, and was soon a fair distance away. In front of me I saw a large cedar-tree, and it did not take me long to climb into this and secrete myself among the branches.

As I did so, the party burst into the vacant space below.

“Phew! but he can run, whoever he is,” exclaimed Avery, puffing.

“Listen!” cried Mr. Norton; and they all did so.

I kept an absolute silence, and nothing but the croaking of frogs and the lonely hooting of an owl broke the stillness.

“It’s no use,” he went on. “The fellow, whoever he is, has got away, and it’s worse than hunting for a pin in a haystack to try to find him.”

The other two were silent, and by looking down I saw Avery scratch his forehead.

“It’s funny that he could have got away so quickly,” he said. “We were right on his heels.”

“Perhaps it was Reuben,” said Mr. Norton suddenly. “I take it that he is mighty nimble on his feet.”

“Yes; but I supposed he was in jail.”

“Might have got out on bail. I’ve found out that they think a sight of the young miller in Bend Center.”

“A good deal more than they do of his uncle, eh?” chuckled Yates.

And then he and Avery broke out into a coarse laugh, in which Mr. Norton was forced to join.

“Let us forget that,” said the latter finally. “It’s a good joke on me, I suppose; but we’ve got serious business ahead. Come, we will make for the shore again.”

And he turned to do so. While they still hesitated, Avery flashed the rays of the lantern about; and to take advantage of the light thus afforded to get a good look at the two strangers, I leaned far down.

In doing this I forgot to hold my cap, and presently it left my head, and before I could stop it, it went sailing straight to Mr. Norton’s feet.

“What’s this?” he cried, starting back.

Then he picked up the cap and examined it.

“Reuben Stone’s cap!” he ejaculated. “I’ll wager a thousand dollars he’s up that tree!”

CHAPTER XXIII.

CAPTURED.

Mr. Norton’s words made my heart leap into my throat. I dodged out of sight, but I felt it in my bones that I was about to be discovered.

“Reuben Stone’s cap,” repeated Yates. “Are you sure?”

“I certainly am.”

“Then the boy must be up the tree,” put in Avery. “Hi, there! Come down out of that!” he called.

Of course I paid no attention to this command.

“Yes, Reuben, come down,” added Mr. Norton. “It will do no good to try to hide.”

I remained silent, and for a moment the trio did the same.

“We’ll have to go up after him,” I heard one of them say in a whisper.

“Perhaps he’s got a gun,” put in another.

“He wouldn’t dare to fire it.”

“I don’t know about that. He’s a boy with lots of backbone.”

Meanwhile I was calculating the chances of escape. It was dark on all sides, and that, I felt certain, would aid me greatly.

Near the tree up which I was hiding was another tree much larger. Without making any noise I swung from one to the other, and got out on a limb that extended fully twenty feet away from the spot where the three men stood.

“I’ll go up the tree,” I heard Mr. Norton say.

“Reuben, you might as well come down,” he shouted.

I kept silent; and getting Avery to aid him with the lantern, Mr. Norton began the ascent.

I allowed him to get well into the branches before making any movement of my own.

“Got him?” called Yates.

“Not yet. Reuben!”

At that instant I allowed myself to drop to the ground. I landed in a soft spot without making any noise. In an instant I made off at the top of my speed.

I would have escaped but for one thing. Just as I started to run, Avery flashed the lantern full upon me. It was a purely accidental movement, but it revealed me to both him and Yates.

“There is the boy now!” he exclaimed.

“Where?” cried Mr. Norton.

“Down here! Stop! stop!” he yelled, and dashed after me.

Yates followed, and so did my guardian as soon as he could descend. I had a fair start, and was just congratulating myself upon getting away, when I ran up against one of the rocky mounds scattered all over the island.

I looked around to the right and to the left for a way to escape, but discovered none. Then I attempted to scale the rocks, but had hardly got halfway to the top when Avery caught me by the foot.

“Let go!” I cried.

“Not much I won’t!” he responded. “Come down here.”

I tried to kick him, and did so, though not very hard. Then he gave a strong pull, and I came down in a heap.

“You can’t come it over me,” he cried.

He had landed directly on top of me; but I began to squirm at a lively rate, and he soon saw that he would not be able to hold me.

“Lie still, or I’ll give you a crack on the head!”

“I won’t be still,” I returned. “Let me up!”

“Quiet, I tell you. Hurry up!” he called to the others.

“We’re coming,” they cried.

“Have you got him?” added Mr. Norton anxiously.

“Yes; but he’s three handsful to handle.”

“We’ll be there in a second.”

By this time I had squirmed to one side, and managed by hard work to partly raise myself.

Seeing this, Avery gave me a stinging blow on the side of the head.

The crack made me see stars, and I fell back. But I did not lose my presence of mind, and I returned the blow with interest.

It seemed to surprise the fellow, for he burst into a loud laugh.

“Well, you are a plucky chap, and no mistake!” he exclaimed. “However, all this struggling of yours won’t do you any good. I’ve handled too many men to be outdone by a boy.”

I wrenched myself loose, and sprang to my feet. He was after me, and in a trice I was again on my back.

In falling my head struck a rock. The bump stunned me for the instant, and it raised a big lump besides. I essayed to get away again; but my head was in a whirl, and finally I was forced to abandon the struggle.

“Now we’ve got you,” he panted.

I made no reply, and presently Yates and Mr. Norton came up.

“Ha, Reuben, you rascal, you thought you would be smart, did you?” said Mr. Norton, as he grasped me by the shoulder.

“What do you intend to do with me?” I asked, as coolly as I could, though I was both excited and out of breath.

“You’ve been spying on us, haven’t you?” said Yates.

To this I made no reply.

“How long have you been on the island?” questioned my guardian.

“I shall not tell you,” I replied firmly.

“I say you will!” he ejaculated, getting angry at once.

I remained silent.

“Are you going to tell me?”

I wiped the perspiration from my brow and adjusted my clothes.

“Do you hear me, Reuben?” he stormed.

“Please give me my cap,” I said to Yates; and he handed it over.

“If the boy is going to act like a mule, what is the use of wasting time over him,” put in Avery. “The question is, now we’ve got him, what are we going to do with him?”

“I’d like to put him out of existence!” growled Mr. Norton.

“We can’t do that,” said Yates. “Shall we take him along?”

There was considerable talk, and then this was agreed to.

“Now, then, forward march!” cried Mr. Norton. “And mind you don’t dare to escape or I won’t be responsible for whatever happens to you.”

“I won’t go along,” I said stubbornly.

“You won’t?”

“Not a step. You have no right to act in this manner. I have as much right to come on this island as you have without being molested.”

“Getting on your high horse!” sneered Mr. Norton.

“If so, I intend to stay there,” was my quick reply.

Mr. Norton tried to force me forward; but I refused to budge, and finally sat down on a rock.

“Now what are you going to do?” asked Avery, who I really believe was inclined to laugh at the whole scene. “Rather rough when an uncle can’t manage his own nephew.”

And both he and Yates let off a loud laugh.

“It’s no laughing matter,” growled Mr. Norton. “This boy knows altogether too much. If we got caught, he could place us in a fine box.”

“Well, as he won’t go along, suppose we leave him here,” said Yates.

“What do you mean?”

“Let us tie him up to one of the trees. Before he can manage to get away, we’ll be out of the district.”

“But he may not be able to get away at all if we bind him too fast,” suggested Avery. “Then he would starve to death.”

“That wouldn’t harm much,” said Mr. Norton. “It’s a good idea,” he went on. “Any rope in the crowd?”

There was; and it was quickly brought forward.

Things were getting to look serious. To be left behind bound to a tree was far from pleasant to contemplate. I half wished I had agreed to accompany the three men.

“I won’t be bound!” I cried. And jumping up, I tried to dash away. But my guardian was too quick for me. He caught me by the arm and held me with all his strength.

“Here is a tree, boys,” he said. “I will hold him while you put the rope around him. Mind you get it tight or he’ll be out of it in a jiffy.”

“Not when I tie the knots,” said Yates. “You forget I spent six years at sea and understand how to handle a rope perfectly.”

The rope was a long one, and it was passed around my body and the tree several times. Then my feet were fastened, and finally my hands.

“Now he’s as stiff as a poker,” went on Yates. “I’ll warrant he won’t get loose short of four or five hours at the least.”

“It ought to be four or five days,” grumbled Mr. Norton.

“Seems to me you’re pretty hard on the boy,” remarked Avery. “For an uncle, it doesn’t look well at all.”

“Mind your own business!” cried my guardian.

“This is my business. We’ve done enough in stealing the diamonds without leaving the boy to die here.”

“He’s all right,” was the reply. “Come on. We have lost too much time already.”

And the three men hurried off, leaving me to my fate.

CHAPTER XXIV.

IN THE WOODS.

For several minutes I heard the footsteps of the trio as they made their way towards the shore; then all became silent, and I realized that I was alone.

It was intensely dark, the heavy branches overhead completely shutting out every bit of light that the night might have otherwise afforded.

I do not claim to be over brave, and the darkness and the loneliness of my position sent a shiver through my frame. How long must I remain in that dismal spot?

I tried to move my hands and my feet, but all appeared to be as fast as if bound with iron. Yates had done his work well, and I was, beyond a doubt, a close prisoner.

After a struggle that lasted for a quarter of an hour or more, and nearly wore the skin from my wrists, I ceased, and gave myself up to bitter reflection.

I wondered if Ford was on his way back to the island, and if he had the police with him. It was hardly possible, yet I trusted that such was the case.

Then I thought of what the three men might say when they found the Catch Me gone. Would they have any other means of leaving Rock Island? I fervently hoped not.

Presently, as much to keep my courage up as anything else, I began to yell at the top of my voice. There was no reply; and finally I was compelled to cease out of pure weariness.

After the lantern had disappeared from my sight, the darkness was at first intense, and I could not see the thicket that I knew was but ten feet ahead of me.

But as my eyes grew more accustomed to the place, I gradually found that by straining my sight I could see a short distance to the front. I was so tightly bound, that to view the situation in any other direction was utterly impossible.

The tree to which I was fastened was a tall and stately elm. It was fully a foot and a half in diameter, and as firm as the rocks that surrounded it.

As I have said, a thicket was directly ahead; what was behind me I did not know, saving the rocks that I had endeavored to scale.

I realized that I was in a bad fix indeed. How long would I have to remain in this position? Would the morning bring a change, or would I be compelled to remain tied to the tree until hunger and thirst had done their work and life had gone out of me?

What a base and cruel man Mr. Norton had proved himself to be! Undoubtedly he was one of the three robbers; and I could not help but shudder at the thought that he was my uncle.

The trio had now divided the diamonds and were ready to separate. If they could find a means of leaving the island, they would do so in short order; and once on the mainland it would be no easy matter to follow them. There were numerous roads, and the Bayport and Bend Center police were not of the best.

But for the present, what was to be done?

Ten minutes went by. To me it seemed a perfect age.

Suddenly the crackling of some dead leaves broke upon my ear. Was some one approaching?

I listened intently. The sound came nearer; and far behind it I heard another sound, as of the footsteps of a man.

Wondering what it could mean, I stretched my neck and peered towards the spot.

The next instant I gave a cry of horror.

Two shining eyes glared at me through an opening, and I heard the low growl of some wild animal.

Words cannot express my feelings at this moment. My very heart seemed to stop beating. I tried to cry out, but found I could not make a sound.

At the edge of the opening the animal paused, as if to take in the situation. Then it moved to a point somewhere behind me.

What was it? A fox, a wolf, or some larger animal? The very thought of its presence gave me a thrill of horror.

For one moment all was silent. I saw or heard nothing of the animal. Had it left the neighborhood? Oh, how I prayed that this might be so!

Then I heard the noise again, off to the right. At first it was faint, as if going from me; but then it became louder, and I knew that the animal was approaching once more.

How I wished that I was free and that I had my gun! But I was helpless, and must take whatever came.

A moment dragged by slowly. My nerves were strung to the highest tension. I strained my eyes, but could see nothing.

Suddenly I caught sight of the eyes again. To me they seemed like twin stars, and my hair fairly stood on end as I beheld them.

Then came a growl, low at first, and then louder. It was the unmistakable mutterings of a wolf!

I knew that Rock Island was infested by that species of wild animal. Some years before my father and I had killed three of the beasts on the south shore during the winter.

I tugged at the rope that bound me with might and main. Soon my right wrist was so chafed that it began to bleed.

I was afraid the scent of blood would attract the wolf’s attention, and in this I was not mistaken; for presently he stopped growling and took a deep breath.

But my tuggings at the rope were not without result; for presently I managed to squeeze my left hand through the tight opening. It hurt to do so, but in the excitement of the moment this was not noticed.

My left hand free, I tried with all my power to make my right hand follow.

Meanwhile the wolf, scenting the blood, stopped growling, and broke into a short bark, not unlike that of a terrified dog. This struck straight to my heart, for I knew that he was now getting ready to attack me.

My right wrist was so lacerated by the rough rope that I found it impossible to withdraw it. In trying to do so I merely made the blood flow more freely, and this soon reached the wolf’s nose and made him more savage than ever.

He disappeared for a moment again, and I could hear nothing of him. But I was certain he would not remain away for any great length of time. Perhaps he had companions in the vicinity, and had gone to call them to the spot.

A moment later his lonely howl arose on the night air calling to his mates. I listened with strained ears, but heard no response.

With my left hand, I now set to work to untie the rope which Yates had fastened so well. In my nervous haste I broke off all my finger-nails before I had the first knot started.

But finally the knot was undone, and then I began on the second. Had I been less excited I might have worked faster, but as it was, all my fingers appeared to be thumbs.

The second knot was untied, and I was just congratulating myself on getting my hands free, when the wolf burst through the thicket directly ahead.

I saw at a glance that he was ready to attack me. His eyes were glaring, and his teeth fairly glistened in the darkness.

It was then that my voice came back to me, and I uttered one wild, unearthly scream for help.

The next instant the savage beast hurled itself at me.

CHAPTER XXV.

A MIRACULOUS ESCAPE.

I now found myself face to face with one of the most dangerous positions into which it had ever been my misfortune to stumble. The wolf that had attacked me was both large and fierce, and unless by some means I became able to combat its onslaught, I felt that my life might end then and there.

My terrible scream made the animal draw back for an instant, and during this brief space of time I managed through sheer desperation to free my right hand.

While doing this, I remember that close to the spot where I was a prisoner, I had noticed several smaller rocks lying at the base of the elm. I bent down, and by reaching around, managed to secure one of these, and balanced it over my head.

I had hardly done so before the wolf gathered himself together, and made another leap, this time directly for my throat.

With all my strength I hurled the rock. By pure chance my aim was true, and the missile struck the brute squarely in the face.

He uttered a sharp cry of pain and tumbled back. As he did so, I stooped down and picked up another, but much smaller stone.

It took him fully a minute to recover from the blow I had given him, and when he approached again, he did so with great caution.

But this time I did not give him the chance to make the leap. It was no pleasant thought to have him so close to my throat. I took careful aim at him while he was crouching, and let fly with all the strength at my command.

The stone struck him directly in the right eye, and its force was so great that it must have ruined that optic. He uttered a terrible howl, and turning, slunk out of sight.

I listened intently, and heard him trot off for a short distance, and then stop. I knew his nature was not one to give up what he had once undertaken, and that as soon as he had recovered partly from the pain I had inflicted, he would make another attempt on my life.

I bent down, searching for another stone, but found none within reach. There was a good one that I could just touch with the tips of my fingers, but that was all.

My hands and lips were bleeding, but utterly unmindful of this, I began work on the rope that still bound my body and feet. I believe that I worked quickly, but to me, at the time, a second seemed an age.

At length I had myself all liberated but my left foot, and was just freeing this when the wolf again appeared. He hardly made a sound, but being on the alert, I felt his presence long before he got ready to make his final attack.

I could not understand why the wolf had been so ferocious at this time of the year. It was midsummer, and there must have been plenty of small game on the island upon which he could feed. Perhaps it was only the smell of human blood that incited him to charge upon me.

Hardly realizing what I was doing, I picked up the rope and whirled it at him. The latter turned and twisted upon the ground like a snake, and as its end reached the wolf, he sprang back several feet.

Seeing this, I threw the rope at him again, just as he was ready to spring forward.

This time the coil twisted about one of his forelegs, and by pulling upon it, I tangled him up in such a fashion that he tumbled on his back.

At this the beast gave such a cry as I had never heard before. It was one of wonder and fear combined, and it was accompanied by a sudden drawing away and vicious snap at the rope.

He did not, however, hold the rope in his mouth long. In an instant he had disengaged himself from the snarl, and this done he broke for cover, and disappeared from sight forever.

It was an odd way to escape, and I considered myself very lucky that fortune had favored me.

But then I did not know but what the wolf intended to return, and so I lost no time in untying the remainder of the rope that was around me.

At the end of five minutes’ hard work, I found myself free. The blood flowed from both of my hands, which were rapidly getting stiff.

The first thing I did was to hunt up a stout club with which to defend myself from future attacks should any come.

This done, I stopped at a spring and bathed my wounds in the cool water. One of my wrists I tied up in my handkerchief, and the other in some lining torn from the old coat I wore.

I had hardly finished this operation when I heard footsteps approaching from the direction of the shore. At first I had an impression that the wolf was returning, but soon recognized the sounds as those proceeding from a human being.

Instinctively I hurried out of sight, dragging the rope behind me. I had hardly done so when I heard a yelp, a cry of alarm, and a pistol-shot in quick succession.

“There! I reckon you’re done for!” I heard a voice exclaim. “That makes one wolf less on this island. By thunder! I wonder if any of the critters have attacked that boy?”

I thought the voice was that of Avery, and I was not mistaken. I saw the flash of a lantern a moment later, and the man stepped into the clearing.

“Reuben Stone!” he called.

I made no answer, and he gazed carefully about on all sides.

“This looks like the spot,” muttered Avery. “Yet if he ain’t here I must have made a mistake, for he couldn’t have got away.”

He continued to hunt around until he reached the base of the rocks where I had been captured.

“No, this is the right place,” he went on. “Here is the very spot we had the tussle.”

“Reuben Stone!” he called out. “If you don’t want to starve to death in these woods you had better answer.”

He listened a moment and then repeated his cry.

I could not help but wonder what had brought him back, but I was not kept long in suspense.

“That boy must know what has become of the boat,” he went on to himself. “He seems to be the only one around.”

He paused for a moment more and looked up into the trees. During this time, I fairly held my breath so fearful was I of discovery.

At length he passed on, satisfied, I think, that he had made some mistake. I followed, taking good care on this occasion that I should keep a respectable distance in the rear and not make any noise.

Avery passed around the spot, and finally came back to it. He seemed both perplexed and chagrined at believing that he had made some mistake. I watched him closely, anxious to know what would be the man’s next move.

At last he gave up the search; and with a final call to me to answer, or he would leave me to the fate mentioned before, he set out for the shore.

It did not take a great while to reach the spot where he had left his two companions. They were seated on some rocks, and sprang up as he approached.

“Well, what did the boy say?” demanded Yates.

“Couldn’t find him!” grumbled Avery sullenly.

“Couldn’t find Reuben!” ejaculated Mr. Norton.

“No. He has got away.”

“Impossible!” exclaimed Yates. “I tied”—

“You are always bragging about what you can do,” sneered my guardian. “Now the boy is gone and the deuce is to pay.”

“Couldn’t you see anything of him?” went on Yates, who was unwilling to believe what he had heard.

“No. He either got away, or else the wolves have made way with him.”

This reply brought forth more questions, and Avery had to tell his story.

It appeared to disconcert the trio not a little.

“Well, if the boy is gone and the boat too, I don’t see what we are going to do about it,” said Mr. Norton.

“The neighborhood is getting too hot for us,” added Avery. “I move we build a raft rather than stay here to be captured.”

“Easier said than done,” said Yates. “Building a raft is all well enough in a story-book, but that is as far as it goes. That boy must have a boat somewhere. I move we separate and hunt her up.”

This was finally agreed to, and the party of three broke up. Mr. Norton started around the west shore, and I followed him.

Upon the water it was quite bright, and I had no doubt but that sooner or later one of the party would see the Catch Me and notify the others. My one hope was that Ford might return before the discovery occurred. If he did not, how was the band of robbers to be traced afterwards?

Suddenly an idea struck me, and I upbraided myself for not having thought of it before. It was to wade out to my craft, board her, and sail out and stand guard around the island until the arrival of the police.

I resolved to act upon the inspiration at once. Pulling off my shoes and stockings, I fastened them securely around my neck, and made for the shallow offing where the Catch Me lay.

“Hullo! there’s a boat!” I heard Mr. Norton suddenly cry.

I made a rush for the craft. In an instant he discovered me, and a moment later struck me a blow on the head that laid me senseless on the rocks.

CHAPTER XXVI.

THE CHASE.

I came to my senses with a start. The cooling waters were dashing over my right arm. A wave broke over my face, and I sat up in a dazed fashion.

I was on a rock some distance from Rock Island. How I had come to the spot I did not know, nor did I at that moment give the matter a thought. There was a strange ringing in my ears and an ache in my head.

Slowly I arose and gazed about me. It was early dawn, and I judged it was four o’clock, or a little after.

My first thought was of the man who had deprived me of my senses. I looked towards the island, and then over the expanse of the lake, but Mr. Norton was nowhere to be seen.

The Catch Me, too, had disappeared, and I at once concluded that the three men had taken the craft and made for the mainland.

I upbraided myself for having allowed my guardian to discover me and treat me as he had. Through this the trio had escaped, and there was no telling where they had gone to.

The distance to the island was fully a hundred feet. During the time I had been lying upon the rocks the lake had been growing rougher, and it was with great difficulty that I made my way to the shore, and even then the wading covered me pretty well with water.

Once on the island again, I sat down on a fallen tree to review the situation. Both the boat and the robbers were gone. What was to be done next?

I wondered if Ford had got back from Bayport or the Bend, and I was just on the point of going on a tour to find out, when there was a noise behind me, and the mill-hand appeared.

“So I have found you at last!” he exclaimed, as he rushed up. “Where have you been? and what has become of the men?”

“The men have gone, and I don’t know where,” I replied. “It’s a long story. Did you bring any one with you?”

“Yes; here is Pointer, and Captain Harley from Bayport.”

“I’ve found him!” he called.

And the next instant the Bend constable and the Bayport captain of police appeared upon the scene.

I told my story in all its details. It was listened to with close attention, and all joined in asking me a great number of questions.

“We have lost much time in hunting you up,” said Pointer. “Those fellows have had the chance of a fine start.”

“Have you any idea which way they headed?” asked Captain Harley.

“Which way is the wind?”

“North-east,” replied Ford.

“Then that’s the way they went. Their one idea was to reach shore as soon as possible, and that’s the way to do it.”

“I believe that you are right, Reuben,” responded Pointer. “I move we get aboard of the Mary, and steer in that direction.”

“I agree,” said Captain Harley.

Ford led the way at once to the cove in which the boat lay at anchor. The sail was hoisted, and a quarter of an hour after the party had found me we were on the move.

“The question now is, which way did they go?” said Ford, as he took the tiller. “Did they steer for Hammer’s Point or Loadhead?”

“One is as near as another,” said Pointer.

“My idea is that they steered for some point between the two places,” I ventured to suggest. “They knew better than to sail right for any town on the lake; for the news has spread, and they would be likely to be captured as soon as they set foot on shore.”

“That’s so,” said Captain Harley. “Most likely they landed in the woods, and came into town by a back way.”

“I advise that we look for the boat at a point equally distant from both places,” I went on. “If we can find the craft, we may get on the trail at once.”

This was deemed the best thing to do, and Ford changed the course accordingly.

“Perhaps they didn’t go to any town at all, but struck the road for Chester,” said Pointer. “Of course they wish to get away as far as possible.”

It took us all of an hour and a half to come within easy sight of the north-east shore of Rock Island Lake. We had hardly done so before Ford uttered a cry.

“That is where they landed! See, there is the Catch Me now!”

Everybody looked, and we saw that he was right; for there, in an inlet, was the sloop tied to a clump of bushes. In two minutes we had reached the spot, and jumped ashore.

“Here are the marks of their feet,” said Pointer; “but see, they seem to spread out, as if the three of them separated.”

“That was their intention,” I answered.

“Most likely. It is rarely that criminals keep together after having committed a crime,” put in Captain Harley. “To hunt them down, we, too, will have to divide into three parties.”

“Suppose I go to Hammer’s Point?” said the constable.

“All right,” replied the captain. “I will go to Loadhead, while you, Stone and Ford, can keep a watch along the roads just beyond these woods.”

“I am willing,” I said.

“And so am I,” put in Ford.

“If either of you discover anything, report it to Pointer or me at once.”

This we agreed to; and a moment later Ford and I picked our way through the rank undergrowth to the main road some two or three hundred feet beyond.

“I’ll bet a new hat that one of the chaps came this way,” said my helper to me when we were some distance on our way.

“What makes you think so?”

“Because the bushes are pushed aside in a number of places.”

“That might have been done by a stray cow, Dan.”

“Cows don’t stray away as far as this,” he laughed.

“Perhaps not. Well, let us hope we are on the right track.”

It did not take us long to reach the main road. We looked up and down. Not a soul was in sight.

“I did not expect to see any one,” I said. “They have several hours’ start of us.”

“Which way shall we go?”

“I hardly know. If I am not mistaken, there is a farmhouse just beyond the bend. Let us ask for information there.”

“By all means.”

It did not take us long to reach the place mentioned. We found an old man hard at work in a field beside the shed, which also stood near the road.

“Good-morning,” said I. “We would like a little information.”

“Morning, young man. Well, what’s it ye want to know?”

“Did you see or hear any one passing down the road some time after three o’clock this morning?”

“Reckon I did, about four o’clock.”

“Did you see or hear the party?”

“Both, young man,” and Farmer Holden grinned.

“What time, please?”

“Close onto five o’clock. It was a tall, slim man. He stopped at the shed just while I was milking the cows.”

“A tall, slim man!” I cried. “And did he wear a funny shaped hat?”

“Well, I reckon the hat was the first thing I noticed,” was the reply. “It was the oddest thing I had seen in these parts for quite a spell.”

“It must have been Mr. Norton!”

CHAPTER XXVII.

AT THE DEPOT.

“And who’s Mr. Norton?” asked the farmer curiously.

“One of the Bayport diamond robbers.”

“Gee-gopher! you don’t say!”

“Yes; what did he want?”

“Wanted to know the right road to Chester.”

“And did he set off in that direction?”

“He did. I reckon he wanted to make the morning train for Philadelphia.”

“And when does that leave?”

“About ten o’clock.”

“Thank you. Come on, Ford. We have no time to lose.”

And we hurried off, leaving Farmer Holden standing by the fence, his mouth wide open with astonishment.

Chester was a large city, some five miles distant. It was now half-past eight, so we had no time to lose.

We walked rapidly. When about half the distance was covered a wagon came along, and we got a ride for the balance of the way.

We jumped to the pavement as soon as we reached the main street. Ford was in for going to the depot, and so off we started.

A moment later, as we turned a corner, I was nearly dumfounded to come face to face with Mr. Norton, accompanied by Yates!

For one brief moment I was so taken aback that I could neither move nor speak, and Ford seemed to be in the same condition.

“Mr. Norton!” I finally gasped.

“Reuben!” he replied.

“What does this mean?” demanded Yates.

He tried to act coolly, but it was not much of a success.

“It means that we have come to Chester to have you arrested,” put in Ford.

“Arrested!”

“Exactly; you must consider yourselves prisoners.”

And he called out at the top of his voice,—

“Police! police!”

“This will never do!” cried Mr. Norton. “I am not to be captured in this fashion.”

And with a sudden bound he sprang around the corner and darted away.

Seeing this, Yates tried to follow suit; but Ford’s grip was a good one, and he held fast.

“Hang on to him, Dan!” I exclaimed. “Don’t let him go. I am going after Mr. Norton!”

And not waiting to say more, I, too, dashed away.

Rounding the corner I saw my guardian fully a block up the street, and running as fast as his long legs would permit. I gave chase, and soon began to close the distance between us.

The street was a narrow one, and but few people were upon it. Had there been a crowd, I would have had no trouble in getting some one to hold him.

Mr. Norton was a good runner, and he made the best possible use of his time. He darted here and there over a box and around a wagon, and it was no mean job to keep him in sight.

The streets of Chester were comparatively strange to me; but I believe they were also to him, so on that score we were equal.

In a few moments he had crossed a river that ran through the town. There was a drawbridge over it; and no sooner had he passed than the keeper began to open the draw for the purpose of allowing a vessel to go through.

“Let me over!” I cried. “I am after a thief!”

“No, you don’t, young fellow!” was the grim reply. “That is an old dodge.”

And the bridge-keeper continued to allow the bridge to swing around.

For an instant I paused in perplexity. What was to be done? If I waited until the bridge was again in position, Mr. Norton would surely escape me.

“I’ll venture it,” I muttered.

And stepping back, I rushed forward and cleared the distance from the partly open draw to the opposite shore at a bound.

“Hi! hi! none of that!” cried the keeper in alarm; but I paid no heed.

Mr. Norton looked back to see what I would do. He was no doubt quite dismayed to see me take the jump.

I raised the cry of “Stop, thief!” but it did no good, and made Mr. Norton run faster than ever.

We went along this way about three blocks, and then he darted down a dark alley. I paused but an instant, and then followed.

At the end was a high fence, and I entered just in time to see him disappear over the top. I followed, and found myself in the rear of a number of greenhouses.

I looked around, but Mr. Norton was not to be seen. There was a path between the glass houses, and along this I picked my way as rapidly as possible, satisfied that my guardian had passed on to the front.

Suddenly I was confronted by a tall and fierce-looking man.

“Hey, what are you doin’ here?” he demanded as he blocked my way.

“I am after a man that just jumped the back fence,” I replied.

And I tried to hurry on.

“Hold on! not so fast!” he cried, catching me by the shoulder. “How do I know but what you ain’t one of them pesky flower thieves that’s been a-botherin’ me so long?”

“I am not a thief, sir!” I exclaimed. “But I am after one, and every second counts. Didn’t you see the man run through here just a moment ago?”

“’Pears to me maybe I did,” replied the florist slowly. “Well, you can go; but don’t let me catch you again, that’s all!”

And he shook his head decidedly.

Without waiting to reply I left, and made my way to the street. I had lost several minutes arguing with the man, and now Mr. Norton was out of sight.

On the curbstone I paused, undecided which way to proceed next.

“Looking for the man that run out of here?” asked a boy who sat on a stoop near by whittling a boat with a jackknife.

“I am,” I replied quickly. “Which way did he go?”

“That way.” And the boy jerked his thumb in the direction.

Suddenly an idea popped into my head.

“Is the depot in that direction?” I questioned.

“Yes, sir.”

I was off as soon as the words were uttered. As I ran I heard a train coming along at a lively rate; and this proved a guide to the spot.

I ran into the depot, and took a hasty look around. Mr. Norton was not there, and a glance into the ladies’ room convinced me that he was not in the building.

CHAPTER XXVIII.

THE PURSUIT BECOMES PERILOUS.

I approached the ticket-office, and asked when the train would leave for Philadelphia.

“In about five minutes,” was the answer.

“And is there any other train up or down before that?”

“Only an express that does not stop.”

“Thank you.”

I walked out upon the platform, but managed to keep out of sight as much as possible, fearful that if Mr. Norton saw me he would leave the vicinity at once.

I wished that I could run across a policeman to whom I could state the case. But there seemed to be none in the neighborhood; and an inquiry brought forth the fact that the official on that post had just gone off with a drunken man in charge.

Presently I heard the rumbling of an approaching locomotive, and the next moment a train dashed up and came to a halt.

As it did so I kept my eyes wide open, and saw Mr. Norton dash from behind a neighboring building, and make for the nearest car. I gave chase at once, and caught him by the arm just as he was about to mount the platform.

“Let me go!” he cried.

“No, sir; you sha’n’t escape me in this fashion,” I returned.

For a moment he glared at me; then drawing back his right arm he gave me a heavy blow directly on the chin.

The crack made my teeth fairly rattle, and I staggered back and rolled upon the platform.

“That will teach you a lesson, Reuben!” he exclaimed. “Good-by! I never expect to see you again.”

The train started off, and in a moment the first two cars had passed me. I was dazed, and hardly knew what to do.

Fortunately the train was a long one, and by the time the last car was going by I had managed to scramble to my feet. I made a dash for the rear platform, and grabbed the iron rail with both hands.

The speed of the train was greater than I had anticipated. The rush of wind took my breath from me, and try as hard as I could I found it impossible for me to raise myself from my highly perilous position. The speed of the cars increased every second, and it became more and more difficult for me to retain my hold.

I shivered as I thought of what the consequence would be if I allowed myself to drop. No doubt I would be dashed to the track, and seriously injured, if not killed.

My head soon began to whirl, and I felt that I could not hang on for any great length of time.

While this thought rushed through my brain, the door of the car opened and the conductor came out. He saw at once what was up, and bending down, he grasped me under the shoulder, and lifted me up the steps and onto the platform.

“What do you mean by trying to get on the train while we are running?” he demanded.

For a moment I could not answer, and in that space of time he shoved me into the end of the car and followed.

“There ought to be a law to arrest fellows like you,” he went on. “If you had been killed I would have been blamed for it!”

“It—it was necessary that I get aboard,” I gasped.

“How necessary? There is another train in half an hour.”

“There is a man aboard this train I wanted to catch.” I went on. “I don’t want him to get away.”

“Better let him go than lose your life,” returned the conductor grimly.

“I didn’t think of that, sir. The man is a thief, and is trying to get away from the police.”

“Indeed! Well, that alters the case a little, to be sure. Who is he?”

“Mr. Norton.”

“What is he wanted for?”

“He is one of the men who stole the diamonds from the Bayport bank.”

“Phew! you don’t say. You are sure?”

“Oh, yes. I was on hand when he got away.”

“You know the man?”

“Yes, sir; quite well.”

“And you say he is on this train?”

“He got aboard the forward car just as we left Chester.”

“We will have to have him arrested.”

“I wish you would do so at the very next station, sir. I don’t want to go to Philadelphia.”

“We will stop at Flanders, two miles farther on. Come and identify the fellow.”

To this I agreed at once, and we started through the train. As we passed each seat I gave the different passengers a glance so as not to miss Mr. Norton on the way.

As I did so, one fellow in the second car impressed me strangely. He was a man about the build of my guardian, but he wore a smoking-cap and a heavy beard. I looked at him twice as we passed, and I noticed him start as I did so.

At last we reached the forward car, and here I felt sure that I would catch sight of Mr. Norton, but I was mistaken. He was nowhere to be seen.

I was thoroughly puzzled, and the conductor saw the look of dismay upon my face.

“Well, where is the man?” he asked.

“I don’t see him,” I replied faintly.

“Maybe he has left the train.”

“Let me take another look.”

“Go ahead. We’ll have to pass Flanders, though.”

“And how far is the next station?”

“Landown, three miles.”

I started from the front platform and walked slowly on to the very last. But I was again unsuccessful, and so notified the conductor.

“If he was on, he must have jumped off when you caught hold,” said that official.

I could not understand it. I was morally certain that Mr. Norton was on the train. Had he in any way disguised himself?

Suddenly I thought of the man who had impressed me so strangely. I jumped to my feet.

“I think I know where he is!” I exclaimed. “Please come with me.”

“What do you mean?”

“I think he is in disguise.”

“Oh, I see,” returned the conductor of the train.

I led the way to the second car. The man with the heavy beard sat looking out of the window. I tapped him on the shoulder.

CHAPTER XXIX.

MR. NORTON’S ACCUSATION.

“Mr. Norton!” I exclaimed as the man turned around.

He started as if shot, then straightened up, and looked at me coldly.

“My name is not Norton,” he replied in a low-pitched tone. “My name is Edwards.”

“Scarcely,” I returned. “You are Mr. Enos Norton.”

“That is a cool assertion, young man.”

“Rather cool, but nevertheless true,” I replied boldly; for his voice reassured me.

“Anybody would agree with me, I think, that a man ought to know his own name best,” he replied pompously.

“That is true, and you know your name is Norton.”

“Edwards, sir; Stephen Edwards from Newark.”

“Mighty queer the boy is so positive you are somebody else,” put in the conductor.

“Evidently the boy is a fool,” puffed the man, as he drew himself up.

“Yet I am not such a fool as to be deceived by you,” I returned warmly.

“Easy there, boy, or I will hand you over to—”

“Rather say that I will do the handing over,” I interrupted.

And to finish the farce, I reached out and pulled on the heavy beard. It came off without much trouble, and Mr. Norton was revealed to the gaze of the half-dozen passengers who had listened to our conversation.

“What do you mean by doing that?” he cried, catching me by the arm.

There was quite a titter of laughter among the people around.

“It means that I have exposed you,” I replied. “This is Mr. Enos Norton,” I went on in a loud voice. “He is wanted by the police at Bayport for the robbery of some diamonds.”

This announcement created quite a stir.

“It’s a lie!” roared Mr. Norton. “I am a jeweler from Newark.”

“What are you wearing a false beard for?” asked the conductor.

“I—I suffer from face-ache, and use it to prevent catching cold,” was the lame excuse, which brought forth a laugh.

“I take it the boy is right,” said the conductor. “We will hand you over to the police at Landown,” and he pulled the cord to stop at the station which we were just approaching.

“This is an outrage!”

“I’ll run the risk. It’s against the law to be disguised.”

Mr. Norton continued to bluster, but no one paid any attention to him.

As soon as we had stopped at the railroad station the station-master was informed of what had happened. He brought forth a stout rope, and with this my guardian’s wrists were bound, despite his many protestations.

Then the train rolled on, leaving me on the platform. Mr. Norton shook his fist in my face.

“You shall suffer for this, Reuben!” he cried. “You will find it would have been better to have allowed me to escape.”

A message was sent to the town constable and he soon appeared. He was a pleasant man by the name of Walters, and he said he would drive us back to Chester at once. He made a search of Mr. Norton’s clothing, and brought forth a carefully wrapped bit of paper, containing his share of the diamonds as they had been divided.

Mr. Norton gave a deep sigh as the constable put the precious stones away where they would be safe; and he had very little to say as he walked away from the depot and got into a wagon that was to take us to Chester.

But on the way he grew more communicative, and entered freely into conversation with the constable.

“Yes,” he said finally. “I might as well own up. I am guilty, and so are three others.”

“And who are the others?” asked Mr. Walters, who knew but little about the case.

“Yates who was caught in Chester; a man named—well, I won’t give you his right name; and this boy here.”

“This boy!” cried the constable.

“I had nothing to do with it,” I put in warmly.

“But he did,” went on Mr. Norton. “Now that he has seen to it that I am caught, I might as well tell the whole story. He had as much to do with it as any one.”

“He doesn’t look like a bad boy,” ventured Mr. Walters.

“Nevertheless, he is, and a deep one too. Why, he even stole one of the diamonds from the others before we had a chance to divide them evenly.”

It made me feel pretty bad to have Mr. Norton hurl his insinuations at me in this fashion. Should he continue to do so, would I be able to make the judge and the people at large think that I was entirely innocent?

“There is not one word of truth in what he says,” I cried. “Mr. Walters, he is a thoroughly bad man; and before his trial is over you will find it so.”

“I am not speaking in defense of myself,” said Norton maliciously. “I know I have done wrong; but it was only because this boy and his two friends dragged me into it.”

I was nearly dumfounded by this audacious assertion, but before I could utter a word Mr. Walters broke in,—

“Funny if the boy is guilty he didn’t skip out himself without trying to arrest you.”

“Oh, he’s a deep one,” was Mr. Norton’s retort. “He knew that to do so would make him appear innocent. He has a long head on his shoulders.”

“Well, that ain’t here or there. I’ll take you both along.”

After this there was a long spell of silence. I was busy thinking over what my guardian had said, and wondering what would be the outcome of his capture.

On reaching Chester, we drove at once to the police station. As we alighted at the door, Ford came forth.

“Hullo!” he cried. “Well, this is lucky! I was just going back to Loadhead to see if they had captured Avery. So you’ve got him?”

“Yes. Where is Yates?”

“The chief is getting ready to take him to Bayport.”

“Then he can take this man, and also the boy,” said Mr. Walters.

“Certainly the man, but why the boy?” asked Ford.

“The man accuses him of being an accomplice.”

“Accuses Reuben!” burst out Ford. “There is not a word of truth in it! Why, that man tried to burn the boy up!”

Walters shrugged his shoulders.

“I must listen to what he says. Come, here is Chief Larkins now.”

In a moment more we were all in the station-house; and I told how Mr. Norton had been captured; and Mr. Walters gave his knowledge of the event. Then Yates was brought in, and the diamonds that had been found upon the two were put in a safe place until they could be returned to Bayport.

“Is this boy an accomplice of yours?” asked the chief of Yates.

“I have nothing to say,” growled the man.

And I found out later that such was the only reply he had made since he had been captured.

“Of course the boy’s in the case,” said Mr. Norton. “He’s my nephew.”

“Are you?” asked Chief Larkins.

“I am; but the relationship doesn’t count for much.”

“I am his guardian, though he doesn’t seem to appreciate that fact.”

“You are not a guardian for any boy to be proud of,” put in Mr. Walters.

“He isn’t my guardian any longer. I have known him only a week, and I have found him to be a thoroughly bad man. I want nothing to do with him.”

There was considerable talk after this; and it was finally decided to return to Bayport without delay, stopping at Loadhead on the way in order to find out if Avery had been captured.

CHAPTER XXX.

NORTON BIXBY.

Chief Larkins procured a large wagon, and into this the entire party were stowed away, and off we drove.

“Did you have much trouble with Yates?” I asked of Ford, as we rolled along.

“A little; but I showed him that I was a pretty strong fellow, and then he gave in at once.”

It did not take us long to reach Loadhead. Here we found both Captain Harley and Captain Pointer. Nothing had been seen of Avery, but they felt confident that he would be captured in some town on the other side of the mountains.

“How shall we get back to Bayport?” asked the constable.

“Why not use the Catch Me?” I replied. “I suppose she is lying right where we left her.”

This was agreed to, and we made for the shore of Rock Island Lake without delay.

To our astonishment the Catch Me was gone!

What did it mean? I gazed about in perplexity. Suddenly Constable Pointer gave a shout.

“That explains it! Avery came back and took the boat! I’ll bet he landed at some other point where he thought he would be free from pursuit!”

“I think you are right,” replied Captain Harley. “We must take the Mary and look for him.”

This was agreed to; and they left the rest of us to return to Bayport. I trusted they would succeed in their mission, not only for the sake of capturing the robber, but also that my beautiful sloop might be returned to me.

It took us quite a while to secure another craft in the vicinity. However, we at length hailed a fishing-sloop, and the owner agreed to take us down the lake provided we would put up with such accommodations as his boat afforded.

“Good enough,” said Chief Larkins. “The main thing is to get there.”

“I was never treated so meanly in all my life,” growled Mr. Norton.

“You’ll see worse, I reckon,” was the reply. “A man that steals shouldn’t look for any comfort in this life.”

“I would never have done it if the boy hadn’t put me up to it.”

“More shame to you if instead of being led you didn’t lead, that’s all I’ve got to say.”

And the police official turned away in disgust.

“You don’t believe me guilty?” I asked earnestly.

“You don’t look it,” he replied. “If you are innocent I trust you will have an easy time proving it.”

“I don’t know about that. A diamond was found upon my person; but I am willing to swear I found the stone and did not steal it.”

“I don’t see why the man accuses you if you are not guilty.”

“He is angry because I captured him.”

“Ah, I see. Well, capturing him ought to be a deed much in your favor.”

We were soon underway. It was a clear, bright day and the breeze was strong. Of course we had to tack, and this made the trip a slow one; but we spent a good half-hour in dining upon some fish which Ford and I broiled in the cuddy, and of which all hands partook.

It was well on in the afternoon when we struck the dock at Bayport. While we were landing quite a crowd gathered, and the news was soon circulated that two of the robbers had been captured.

A perfect mob of people followed us up to the court-house, and a goodly number entered the room where Judge Green sat deeply interested over some legal documents.

“What is this I hear?” he exclaimed as the party entered. “Two of the robbers captured! Good! it is glorious news! So this is the man called Yates, and this is Norton. Well, gentlemen, what have you to say for yourselves?”

“Nothing,” replied Yates.

“That’s better than telling a falsehood,” said the judge. “So your breaking jail didn’t do you any good,” he added, turning to Mr. Norton.

“It is all a mistake,” whined my guardian.

“So it would seem, sir.”

And the fat judge laughed at what he thought was a good joke.

In a little while the court was called to order, and the prisoners were granted a hearing. Ford and I were the principal witnesses, and we were listened to with close attention.

“Well, Stone, I think you had some remarkable adventures on Rock Island,” said Judge Green, after I had finished. “You came very near losing your life, if what you say is true.”

“I have told everything exactly as it occurred.”

“Then these men have an account to settle outside of the robbery. It is no light offense to treat anybody as you have been treated.”

“Besides that, they stole my boat,” I added.

“Yes; that is true.”

“I trust you don’t think I am guilty, sir.”

“About that it is not my place to say. Squire Slocum has let you out on bail. Remember you are innocent until proven guilty, as is the case with every one brought before the bar of justice.”

“And when do you suppose the case will come to trial?”

“That will depend upon whether the other robber is captured or not. It will probably be tried at this term of court.”

While the judge and I were conversing, a gentleman entered the room and pushed his way to my side. It was Mr. Markham, and he shook me warmly by the hand.

“I have heard what you have done, Stone,” he said. “Allow me to congratulate you.”

Then his eyes ran over those gathered around and rested upon Mr. Norton.

“Hullo, Norton Bixby, where did you come from?” he demanded. “I thought you were in the New York State Penitentiary.”

I listened in amazement.

What did Mr. Markham mean by addressing Mr. Norton as Norton Bixby? To me it was an intensely interesting question, and I sprang forward before the latter could reply to the question that had been propounded.

“Is this man not Mr. Enos Norton?” I asked breathlessly.

“Enos Norton,” repeated Mr. Markham. “Why, no. His name is Bixby, Norton Bixby, and I had him arrested three years ago in New York for stealing some unregistered bonds from my office.”

I fell back in astonishment.

CHAPTER XXXI.

A LUCKY FIND.

“If his name is Bixby he cannot be my uncle,” I gasped.

“What is your uncle’s name?”

“Enos Norton.”

“There is a similarity in names, but I guess he is not the man.”

I breathed a sigh of relief. The news was worth more than a thousand dollars to me.

“Then he is some first-class fraud,” I went on; “for he came to Bend Center about a week ago, and pretended to be my uncle, and said that my father had appointed him as my guardian.”

“That is very odd,” observed Judge Green gravely. “This matter must be looked into. You are positive this man is Norton Bixby?” he continued, to Mr. Markham.

“I am. His face is one not easily forgotten. But I thought his term was not up for some time yet.”

“Perhaps he was let out for good behavior,” suggested Captain Harley. “They often shorten their time for that reason, you know.”

“So I understand. How about this, Bixby?”

And he turned to my pretended guardian.

Mr. Norton, as I shall continue to call him for the present, pressed his mouth together tightly.

“I don’t know you,” he snapped.

“What!”

“I say I don’t know you.”

“Do you mean to deny that you are Norton Bixby?”

“I certainly do.”

“I can prove it to be true, sir,” returned Mr. Markham with energy.

“How?”

Mr. Norton asked the question coolly, and I saw that the city gentleman was nonplused.

“We will see later,” he returned, and then spoke to the judge in a low tone.

“I am Enos Norton, and this boy’s uncle,” went on my pretended guardian. “This man and the boy, who is a bad egg, have hatched up this scheme against me.”

“We will find out the truth of the matter at the trial, or before,” said Judge Green. “In the meanwhile, Oldman, remove the prisoners, and see to it that neither of them gets away. You, Stone, I will let go on the bail furnished to Squire Slocum. I suppose you can be found at your mill whenever wanted?”

“Yes, sir; either there or somewhere in the vicinity. Dan Ford will be able to tell where I am at any time.”

“That will do then. Mr. Markham, I will consult with you later. Will you dine with me this evening?”

“With pleasure, Judge,” was the reply.

A little later the hearing was brought to a close, and Mr. Norton and Yates were led away. The police authorities remained in Bayport to await the return of those who had gone in search of Avery. Ford and I went down to the dock and hired a man to take us over to the Bend.

“I would like to know just how much this Carney had to do with the affair,” I said as we were crossing.

“Not much, I guess,” returned Ford. “He is an awfully ignorant fellow, and merely did what was told him in the shape of sailing the men where they wanted to go.”

“I am inclined to think that way, Dan. But you can’t always tell about these matters. I trust that they will catch Avery and get back the Catch Me,” I continued. “I wouldn’t have that boat injured for a good deal.”

“No; she is too fine a craft for that.”

At the Bend, Ford and I separated; and I hastened along the road to the mill to assure myself that nothing had occurred during my absence.

As I hurried on, I thought over the way Mr. Norton had acted since he had come to the Bend, and I could not believe but that Mr. Markham was right, and that he was not my uncle at all.

This thought gave me much satisfaction, but there was a great deal in it to worry me.

If Mr. Norton was an impostor, what of the letter he had written to me concerning my father’s death? Had my parent met his end in the manner described, or was it possible that my dear father was alive?

Fervently I prayed that such might be the fact, that my father might some day come back to me. The prayer brought a hope, and I walked along with a lighter tread after I had uttered it.

Presently I passed the spot where Ford and I had captured Carney. The remembrance of the occurrence brought to mind Mr. Norton’s valise and the letters that had been missing from it. In the rush of other events, this had slipped my mind; but now I determined to make a search for the documents.

I found the exact spot where Carney’s boat had been beached, and soon discovered his footprints in the soil near by.

I had hardly got thus far, when I saw something white on the ground just ahead. I rushed forward, and in a moment held in my hand the precious letters for which I was seeking.

They were three in number, and bound around with an elastic. Why Carney had thrown them away without looking in them, I did not know; but later on found out that he could not read.

I hastily opened one of the letters. It was short, and ran as follows:—

NEW YORK, JUNE 6.

DEAR BIXBY,—

Will be on hand in Chicago as soon as I can arrange with Avery. He will meet us at Bayport when desired.

MARTIN YATES.

The second letter was of more importance.

BAYPORT, JULY 23.

DEAR BIXBY,—

Avery and I are here awaiting you. So are the diamonds. Why fool with that boy, even though his father is dead! If you try to impersonate his uncle, even though he was your cousin, you may get into trouble, and I cannot see how it is going to benefit us much, except to afford some kind of a hiding-place if we get in a tight fix. Will be near the mill when wanted.

M. Y.

As I read this letter the tears sprang into my eyes. Then my father was really dead! It was a cruel thought, and one that so unnerved me that I could hardly read the third communication.

BIXBY,—

All is ready for the final move. Destroy this letter, so if you get caught we will not be known. I think you acted like a fool in going to the mill at all, there was so little money in the scheme; but you always were a queer stick. I intend to impersonate the boy during the evening. I have one of his old coats, also his cap. It will mix matters up and be the better for us. Carney does what he is told and don’t know any better. Watch Avery. He is rather soft and may back out. That boy is no fool, and if you get your fingers burnt it will be your own fault.

M. Y.

I folded up the letters and put them into my pocket. I had learned much from them. Norton Bixby was my real uncle’s cousin; Yates had done me the injury of appearing in my coat during the evening at Bayport, and raised the impression that I was in town; and my father was no more.

I continued on my way slowly. So absorbed was I, that when I approached the mill I did not notice a stranger standing by the door, and when he spoke to me I started at his voice.

“Is this the Stones’ mill?” he asked.

“Yes, sir,” I replied; “and I am Reuben Stone.”

“Indeed!” He looked at me in a kindly way. “Give me your hand,” he went on; “I am your uncle, Enos Norton, just arrived from the West.”

CHAPTER XXXII.

A WELCOME ARRIVAL.

I could hardly believe the evidence of my senses. This tall, well-dressed gentleman my uncle! It was welcome news indeed.

“You are my uncle?” I repeated slowly.

“Yes. I haven’t been to the Bend in years; but you must have heard of me, Reuben?”

“I have heard of you. But—but”—

“Where is your father?”

“Father is dead.”

“What! dead! and I never heard of it! How long since?”

“Several weeks, I believe. I am not sure, sir.”

“Not sure? Did he not die here?”

“No, sir; he died in South Dakota, where he went to hunt for some good spot to locate a mill.”

“Well, this is indeed news. I wish I had heard of it before. I just came from Chicago.”

“While you were there did you meet Norton Bixby?” I asked quickly.

“Yes. But how do you know that?”

“He is here now, under arrest.”

“Indeed. Norton, I know, is a bad fellow. He is a second cousin on the Norton side.”

“He came to the mill and introduced himself as Enos Norton, and said he had been appointed my guardian by my father, who had lost his life by falling over a ravine. Now he is in jail for the robbery of a number of diamonds.”

“The rascal! I know he has been in jail before in New York State. So he pretended to be myself. Reuben, you did not think much of your uncle, I guess.”

“I must say I did not.”

“I think you will find me a different sort of fellow. I just arrived on the stage-coach, and the driver did not tell me any of the news. I thought it rather queer to find the mill deserted, and was just on the point of starting for the Bend when you came along.”

I invited my real Uncle Norton into the mill at once, and as he said he was somewhat hungry, I bustled around to get supper, meanwhile telling him of all that had occurred.

“It sounds like a perfect romance,” he said, when I had finished. “I never dreamed that Nort would dare to do such a thing. I remember that he asked me much about the Bend; but I thought it was only through curiosity. On the last day he was with me he borrowed twenty dollars.”

“Didn’t he know you might turn up here?”

“Probably not. At the time we were together I was planning to go to New Mexico. He, no doubt, thinks I am there at this moment.”

“He’ll be surprised to see you.”

“No doubt. But such a thorough rascal as he has proved himself to be is better in jail than out of it.”

I soon had supper prepared, and my uncle sat down and ate heartily. I could not touch a mouthful. The rapid turning of affairs had completely unsettled me.

“We must have a talk with Nort to-morrow, and find out all the particulars of your father’s death,” went on my real uncle. “I am not at all satisfied with the story he has told to you. If I remember rightly your father was a very careful man.”

He stopped suddenly, and then changed the subject, asking me how I got along at the mill, and if business was good.

“I came partly to offer your father an interest in a ranch I am on the point of buying in New Mexico,” he said, when I had related how matters stood. “I know the Bend is a dull place, and I have got an opening where I think you would do very well.”

“I would be glad to leave the Bend,” I replied. “I think I could do better in some new and lively place.”

My uncle gave a laugh.

“I don’t know as a ranch is such a lively place; but it will give you a chance to make money.”

“Then that’s lively enough for me,” I returned.

We spent the evening in getting acquainted. I found Mr. Norton a splendid, whole-souled man, and took to him immediately; and I was glad to note that this feeling seemed to be reciprocated.

On the following morning we started for Bend Center at an early hour. Almost the first person we met was Constable Pointer, who had just come over from Bayport.

“What luck?” I asked.

“We’ve got the diamonds!” he replied; “and the Catch Me too.”

“You mean that you didn’t catch Avery?”

“We caught him, but he gave Captain Harley the slip in Loadhead. We hope to get him to-day.”

But I may as well add right here that Avery was never captured, nor was he ever heard from after that day.

I introduced my uncle to Pointer, and also to Ford, who came up while we were talking. The mill-hand was highly pleased as well as astonished to meet the stranger.

“Good fellow, I guess,” he whispered to me. “Beats the bogus Norton all to bits!”

“You are right, Dan,” I returned.

It did not take my real uncle long to pick up some old acquaintances, who soon recognized him. All wondered that they had been deceived, and they attributed it to the similar family appearance that was common to both men.

Then we sailed over to Bayport, and made our way to the court-house. Judge Green was not yet present; but when the matter was explained, the jailer readily consented to allow Mr. Norton to interview the prisoner who had so misrepresented himself.

CHAPTER XXXIII.

A HAPPY ENDING.

It will be needless to dwell upon Bixby’s astonishment when confronted by my uncle. He turned all sorts of colors.

“I—I thought you were in New Mexico!” he gasped.

“I am glad I am not,” was my uncle’s reply. “Now, Nort, I want you to make a clean breast of this whole matter.”

“Will you help me in my case if I do?” he asked.

“I certainly won’t help you if you don’t,” was the reply. “Tell me all; and I will see to it that you have a lawyer when your case comes to trial.”

On the strength of this promise Norton Bixby told his story. It is too long to repeat here, but in substance was as follows:—

After leaving the New York penitentiary he had gone West, and there fallen in with my father, and with him gone to South Dakota, getting my parent to pay the expenses. My father had really fallen over a ravine, and lay at the bottom dead. Bixby had run from the spot in horror, and had never gone near the corpse again.

When he got back to Chicago he noticed my uncle’s arrival at one of the hotels through the newspapers, and he at once called upon him. Then came a letter from Yates, asking him to take a hand in the Bayport robbery; and knowing that Bayport was close to Bend Center, he had concocted the scheme to appear upon the scene as my uncle and guardian. There was not much to be gained by it; but the idea had fascinated him, and he had carried it out as is known.

“I was sure Enos had no intention of coming here,” he finished; “but I was mistaken.”

“It is funny I didn’t get any word from my father during the time you were with him.”

“He said he wasn’t going to write until he had good news. He was afraid of disheartening you.”

“And you never went back to bury him?” I went on, with a quiver in my voice.

“No, I couldn’t. When he went over, he let out a scream that seemed to freeze the very marrow in my bones. For a moment I couldn’t move. At last I looked over the edge of the rocks, and I saw he was all crushed and bruised.”

“But he must have been alive.”

“Not much. That fall was all of a hundred feet and on the bare rocks. I would have gone down; but it was such a lonely spot I got frightened, and simply ran away as hard as I could. That’s the plain truth.”

And Norton Bixby wiped the cold perspiration from his forehead.

I looked the man in the eyes, and could not help believe that in this particular the fellow spoke the truth.

But in my heart how I wished he had returned and made sure that my father was really dead! There might have been a spark of life remaining, and if so, prompt treatment might have given him back to me.

I bowed my head, and the tears began to well up in my eyes. Norton Bixby saw them, and turned away his head.

Then the jailer appeared.

“A man up-stairs wants to see you at once,” he said to me.

“Who is it?” I asked, drying my eyes.

“Didn’t give any name, sir.”

I went up to the court room. The man who wished to see me was standing near the door. I gave one look, paused to make sure that I was not dreaming, and then rushed forward and threw myself into his arms.

The new-comer was my father.

“Father!”

It was the only word I could utter; but how much it told!

“Reuben!” he replied.

“I thought you were dead,” I went on, after a long embrace. “Norton Bixby said so.”

“I have been very near to death,” my father answered. “You have heard how I fell from the top of a ravine to the bottom?”

“Yes; Bixby just told the story.”

“Well, I must have lain there for a long time unconscious; for when I went down the sun was still shining, and when I came to all was dark.”

“And you were not hurt?”

“Indeed I was. My left ankle was broken, and something was wrong in my chest, not to say anything of the scratches I received, which covered my face and hands with blood.”

“And how did you escape?”

“It is a long story. When I regained consciousness, I could not walk; and it was hard work to crawl to the water to get a drink and bathe my ankle. I tried to call out; but the pain was too great in my chest.”

“And you were all alone?”

“Yes; and for three days. The pain was something terrible; and that, added to the loneliness of my position, gave me a fever, and I lost my mind.”

“And who rescued you?”

“A hunter named Thompson, and two others. They told me two weeks after, when I was recovering, that they had found me delirious near their camp, and had taken me in and sent off for a doctor. They could not find out who I was, and had done the best they could for me.”

“And then you came on?”

“Yes, after writing you a letter”—

“I never received it,” I put in quickly.

“So I heard at the Bend this morning. Oh, my son, I cannot tell you how glad I am to be back with you once more!”

“And I am glad, too, father,” I replied. “I trust we may never be separated again.”

We shook hands warmly, and a moment later my uncle appeared.

He was greatly astonished, but glad indeed to know that my father had had such a marvelous escape. Then Mr. Markham and Judge Green arrived, and all the stories were told over again.

Later on my father went down to see Norton Bixby. I do not know what took place at the interview, but I think it must have done Bixby much good, for ever after that he seemed a better man.

When court was called, Norton Bixby and Yates were bound over to await the action of the grand jury. As soon as this was done my uncle invited us all to dine at the hotel at his expense, and among the party were Mr. Markham and Ford. The latter nearly wrung my father’s hand off when they met.

After we had satisfied the inner man, my uncle unfolded his plans to my father. Mr. Markham became interested, and as a consequence, the original plan was much enlarged. My father agreed to sell off his mill property as soon as it could be done, and then the three were to purchase a large tract of land, and form a company for the purpose of raising cattle. I may as well add that Ford was promised a job as soon as all arrangements could be made.

The dinner mentioned above took place just six years ago. During the intervening time great changes have taken place. Norton Bixby and Yates were both sent to prison, the former for two and the latter for eight years. During that time Yates tried to escape, and as a consequence is still behind the bars.

Bixby came out four years ago. He has changed for the better, and is a good man on the ranch, where he is well away from the temptations of the city. Carney was given a year in the penitentiary, and I don’t know what has become of him.

The mill and the Catch Me were sold at good prices, and then my father and I moved out to our new home. We have with us my uncle and Dan Ford, and we are not only happy, but we are likewise getting rich.

Mr. Markham and his family pay us a visit once a year, and he has not forgotten the promise made to further benefit me; for on my twenty-first birthday he presented me, in the name of his wife and son, with an eighth interest in the ranch, worth, at the lowest calculation, ten thousand dollars.

I like my new home a hundred times better than the old. Here I am free from the sneers of all such men as Mr. James Jackson, and I have the satisfaction of knowing that my work is going to accomplish something. I have a swift pony, a fine dog, and a good gun; I love my occupation—and all these things being so, what more is there to say but to bid my readers adieu?

THE END.

THE FAMOUS “OLD GLORY SERIES.”

By EDWARD STRATEMEYER,

Author of “The Bound to Succeed Series,” “The Ship and Shore Series,” etc.

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“‘The Last Cruise of the Spitfire’ is of deep interest to the bounding heart of an enthusiastic boy. The book leaves a good impression on a boy’s mind, as it teaches the triumph of noble deeds and true heroism.”—Kansas City (Mo.) Times.

“Let us mention in passing two admirable books for boys, ‘Reuben Stone’s Discovery’ and ‘Oliver Bright’s Search,’ by Edward Stratemeyer, with whom we are all acquainted. This last bit of his work is especially good, and the boy who gets one of these volumes will become very popular among his fellows until the book is worn threadbare.”—N.Y. Herald.

“A good sea-tale for boys is ‘The Last Cruise of the Spitfire,’ by Edward Stratemeyer. There is plenty of adventure in it, a shipwreck, a cruise on a raft, and other stirring perils of the deep.”—Detroit (Mich.) Journal.

“In a simple, plain, straightforward manner, Mr. Edward Stratemeyer endeavors to show his boy readers what persistency, honesty, and willingness to work have accomplished for his young hero, and his moral is evident. Mr. Stratemeyer is very earnest and sincere in his portraiture of young character beginning to shape itself to weather against the future. A book of this sort is calculated to interest boys, to feed their ambition with hope, and to indicate how they must fortify themselves against the wiles of vice.”—Boston Herald.

For sale by all booksellers, or sent, postpaid, on receipt of price by

LEE & SHEPARD, Publishers,

BOSTON.

WAR AND ADVENTURE STORIES.

By EDWARD STRATEMEYER.

Author of the Famous “Old Glory Series,” “Bound to Succeed Series,”

“Ship and Shore Series,” etc.

FIRST VOLUME.

- BETWEEN BOER AND BRITON Or Two Boys’ Adventures in South Africa.

Illustrated by A. B. SHUTE.

Cloth.    354 pages.    Price, $1.25.

“The story bristles with action.”—The Outlook.

“A stirring story of the South African war.”—The Journal, Indianapolis, Ind.

“The kind of story to please boys and give them a fair idea of a great historical event.”—St. Louis Post-Despatch.

“Throughout the book there is evidence of that sympathy for the Boer which prevails on this side of the Atlantic.”—Chronicle, Chicago.

SECOND VOLUME.

- ON TO PEKIN Or Old Glory in China.

Illustrated by A. B. SHUTE.

Cloth.    330 pages.    Price, $1.25.

“Parents can feel, in putting this book into the hands of boys and girls, that they are going to get and hold the interest by the strenuous adventure, and at the same time enforce those splendid old-fashioned traits of honesty, courage, and true all-round manliness.”—Universalist Leader.

“A thoroughly up-to-date book, full of incidents familiar to us, which will suit the boys as well as be of interest to their parents.”—San Francisco Call.

For sale by all booksellers, or will be sent, prepaid, on receipt of price by

LEE & SHEPARD, Publishers,

BOSTON.

AMERICAN BOYS’ BIOGRAPHICAL

SERIES

By EDWARD STRATEMEYER

- AMERICAN BOYS’ LIFE OF WILLIAM McKINLEY. Illustrated by A. B. SHUTE, and from photographs.

Cloth.    320 pages.    Price $1.25.

No more timely or patriotic book can be found than Mr. Stratemeyer’s biography of our late martyred President.

Another volume in preparation.

COLONIAL SERIES

By EDWARD STRATEMEYER

- WITH WASHINGTON IN THE WEST; Or, A Soldier Boy’s Battles in the Wilderness.

Cloth.    Illustrated.    Price $1.25.

“A thoroughly entertaining book.”—N.Y. World.

- MARCHING ON NIAGARA; Or, The Soldier Boy of the Old Frontier. (In press.)

For sale by all Booksellers, or will be sent, prepaid, on receipt of price by

LEE & SHEPARD, Publishers,

BOSTON

OLIVER OPTIC’S BOOKS

All-Over-the-World Library. By OLIVER OPTIC. First Series. Illustrated. Price per volume, $1.25.

- 1. A Missing Million; OR, THE ADVENTURES OF LOUIS BELGRADE.

- 2. A Millionaire at Sixteen; OR, THE CRUISE OF THE “GUARDIAN MOTHER.”

- 3. A Young Knight Errant; OR, CRUISING IN THE WEST INDIES.

- 4. Strange Sights Abroad; OR, ADVENTURES IN EUROPEAN WATERS.

No author has come before the public during the present generation who has achieved a larger and more deserving popularity among young people than “Oliver Optic.” His stories have been very numerous, but they have been uniformly excellent in moral tone and literary quality. As indicated in the general title, it is the author’s intention to conduct the readers of this entertaining series “around the world.” As a means to this end, the hero of the story purchases a steamer which he names the “Guardian Mother,” and with a number of guests she proceeds on her voyage.—Christian Work, N. Y.

All-Over-the-World Library. By OLIVER OPTIC. Second Series. Illustrated. Price per volume, $1.25.

- 1. American Boys Afloat; OR, CRUISING IN THE ORIENT.

- 2. The Young Navigators; OR, THE FOREIGN CRUISE OF THE “MAUD.”

- 3. Up and Down the Nile; OR, YOUNG ADVENTURERS IN AFRICA.

- 4. Asiatic Breezes; OR, STUDENTS ON THE WING.

The interest in these stories is continuous, and there is a great variety of exciting incident woven into the solid information which the book imparts so generously and without the slightest suspicion of dryness. Manly boys will welcome this volume as cordially as they did its predecessors.—Boston Gazette.

All-Over-the-World Library. By OLIVER OPTIC. Third Series. Illustrated. Price per volume, $1.25.

- 1. Across India; OR, LIVE BOYS IN THE FAR EAST.

- 2. Half Round the World; OR, AMONG THE UNCIVILIZED.

- 3. Four Young Explorers; OR, SIGHT-SEEING IN THE TROPICS.

- 4. Pacific Shores; OR, ADVENTURES IN EASTERN SEAS.

Amid such new and varied surroundings it would be surprising indeed if the author, with his faculty of making even the commonplace attractive, did not tell an intensely interesting story of adventure, as well as give much information in regard to the distant countries through which our friends pass, and the strange peoples with whom they are brought in contact. This book, and indeed the whole series, is admirably adapted to reading aloud in the family circle, each volume containing matter which will interest all the members of the family.—Boston Budget.

The Blue and the Gray—Afloat. By OLIVER OPTIC. Six volumes. Illustrated. Beautiful binding in blue and gray, with emblematic dies. Cloth. Any volume sold separately. Price per volume, $1.50.

- 1. Taken by the Enemy.

- 2. Within the Enemy’s Lines.

- 3. On the Blockade.

- 4. Stand by the Union.

- 5. Fighting for the Right.

- 6. A Victorious Union.

The Blue and the Gray—on Land.

- 1. Brother against Brother.

- 2. In the Saddle.

- 3. A Lieutenant at Eighteen.

- 4. On the Staff.

- 5. At the Front.

- 6. An Undivided Union.

“There never has been a more interesting writer in the field of juvenile literature than Mr. W. T. ADAMS, who, under his well-known pseudonym, is known and admired by every boy and girl in the country, and by thousands who have long since passed the boundaries of youth, yet who remember with pleasure the genial, interesting pen that did so much to interest, instruct, and entertain their younger years. ‘The Blue and the Gray’ is a title that is sufficiently indicative of the nature and spirit of the latest series, while the name of OLIVER OPTIC is sufficient warrant of the absorbing style of narrative. This series is as bright and entertaining as any work that Mr. ADAMS has yet put forth, and will be as eagerly perused as any that has borne his name. It would not be fair to the prospective reader to deprive him of the zest which comes from the unexpected by entering into a synopsis of the story. A word, however, should be said in regard to the beauty and appropriateness of the binding, which makes it a most attractive volume.”—Boston Budget.

Woodville Stories. By OLIVER OPTIC. Six volumes. Illustrated. Any volume sold separately. Price per volume, $1.25.

- 1. Rich and Humble; OR, THE MISSION OF BERTHA GRANT.

- 2. In School and Out; OR, THE CONQUEST OF RICHARD GRANT.

- 3. Watch and Wait; OR, THE YOUNG FUGITIVES.

- 4. Work and Win; OR, NODDY NEWMAN ON A CRUISE.

- 5. Hope and Have; OR, FANNY GRANT AMONG THE INDIANS.

- 6. Haste and Waste; OR, THE YOUNG PILOT OF LAKE CHAMPLAIN.

“Though we are not so young as we once were, we relished these stories almost as much as the boys and girls for whom they were written. They were really refreshing, even to us. There is much in them which is calculated to inspire a generous, healthy ambition, and to make distasteful all reading tending to stimulate base desires.”—Fitchburg Reveille.

The Starry Flag Series. By OLIVER OPTIC. In six volumes. Illustrated. Any volume sold separately. Price per volume, $1.25.

- 1. The Starry Flag; OR, THE YOUNG FISHERMAN OF CAPE ANN.

- 2. Breaking Away; OR, THE FORTUNES OF A STUDENT.

- 3. Seek and Find; OR, THE ADVENTURES OF A SMART BOY.

- 4. Freaks of Fortune; OR, HALF ROUND THE WORLD.

- 5. Make or Break; OR, THE RICH MAN’S DAUGHTER.

- 6. Down the River; OR, BUCK BRADFORD AND THE TYRANTS.

“Mr. ADAMS, the celebrated and popular writer, familiarly known as OLIVER OPTIC, seems to have inexhaustible funds for weaving together the virtues of life; and, notwithstanding he has written scores of books, the same freshness and novelty run through them all. Some people think the sensational element predominates. Perhaps it does. But a book for young people needs this, and so long as good sentiments are inculcated such books ought to be read.”

Army and Navy Stories. By OLIVER OPTIC. Six volumes. Illustrated. Any volume sold separately. Price per volume, $1.25.

- 1. The Soldier Boy; OR, TOM SOMERS IN THE ARMY.

- 2. The Sailor Boy; OR, JACK SOMERS IN THE NAVY.

- 3. The Young Lieutenant; OR, ADVENTURES OF AN ARMY OFFICER.

- 4. The Yankee Middy; OR, ADVENTURES OF A NAVY OFFICER.

- 5. Fighting Joe; OR, THE FORTUNES OF A STAFF OFFICER.

- 6. Brave Old Salt; OR, LIFE ON THE QUARTER DECK.

“This series of six volumes recounts the adventures of two brothers, Tom and Jack Somers, one in the army, the other in the navy, in the great Civil War. The romantic narratives of the fortunes and exploits of the brothers are thrilling in the extreme. Historical accuracy in the recital of the great events of that period is strictly followed, and the result is, not only a library of entertaining volumes, but also the best history of the Civil War for young people ever written.”

Boat Builders Series. By OLIVER OPTIC. In six volumes. Illustrated. Any volume sold separately. Price per volume, $1.25.

- 1. All Adrift; OR, THE GOLDWING CLUB.

- 2. Snug Harbor; OR, THE CHAMPLAIN MECHANICS.

- 3. Square and Compasses; OR, BUILDING THE HOUSE.

- 4. Stem to Stern; OR, BUILDING THE BOAT.

- 5. All Taut; OR, RIGGING THE BOAT.

- 6. Ready About; OR, SAILING THE BOAT.

“The series includes in six successive volumes the whole art of boat building, boat rigging, boat managing, and practical hints to make the ownership of a boat pay. A great deal of useful information is given in this Boat Builders Series, and in each book a very interesting story is interwoven with the information. Every reader will be interested at once in Dory, the hero of ‘All Adrift,’ and one of the characters retained in the subsequent volumes of the series. His friends will not want to lose sight of him, and every boy who makes his acquaintance in ‘All Adrift’ will become his friend.”

Riverdale Story Books. By OLIVER OPTIC. Twelve volumes. Illustrated. Illuminated covers. Price: cloth, per set, $3.60; per volume, 30 cents; paper, per set, $2.00.

- 1. Little Merchant.

- 2. Young Voyagers.

- 3. Christmas Gift.

- 4. Dolly and I.

- 5. Uncle Ben.

- 6. Birthday Party.

- 7. Proud and Lazy.

- 8. Careless Kate.

- 9. Robinson Crusoe, Jr.

- 10. The Picnic Party.

- 11. The Gold Thimble.

- 12. The Do-Somethings.

Riverdale Story Books. By OLIVER OPTIC. Six volumes. Illustrated. Fancy cloth and colors. Price per volume, 30 cents.

- 1. Little Merchant.

- 2. Proud and Lazy.

- 3. Young Voyagers.

- 4. Careless Kate.

- 5. Dolly and I.

- 6. Robinson Crusoe, Jr.

Flora Lee Library. By OLIVER OPTIC. Six volumes. Illustrated. Fancy cloth and colors. Price per volume, 30 cents.

- 1. The Picnic Party.

- 2. The Gold Thimble.

- 3. The Do-Somethings.

- 4. Christmas Gift.

- 5. Uncle Ben.

- 6. Birthday Party.

These are bright short stories for younger children who are unable to comprehend the Starry Flag Series or the Army and Navy Series. But they all display the author’s talent for pleasing and interesting the little folks. They are all fresh and original, preaching no sermons, but inculcating good lessons.

The Great Western Series. By OLIVER OPTIC. In six volumes. Illustrated. Any volume sold separately. Price per volume, $1.25.

- 1. Going West; OR, THE PERILS OF A POOR BOY.

- 2. Out West; OR, ROUGHING IT ON THE GREAT LAKES.

- 3. Lake Breezes; OR, THE CRUISE OF THE SYLVANIA.

- 4. Going South; OR, YACHTING ON THE ATLANTIC COAST.

- 5. Down South; OR, YACHT ADVENTURES IN FLORIDA.

- 6. Up the River; OR, YACHTING ON THE MISSISSIPPI.

“This is the latest series of books issued by this popular writer, and dealt with life on the Great Lakes, for which a careful study was made by the author in a summer tour of the immense water sources of America. The story, which carries the same hero through the six books of the series, is always entertaining, novel scenes and varied incidents giving a constantly changing yet always attractive aspect to the narrative. OLIVER OPTIC has written nothing better.”

The Yacht Club Series. By OLIVER OPTIC. In six volumes. Illustrated. Any volume sold separately. Price per volume, $1.25.

- 1. Little Bobtail; OR, THE WRECK OF THE PENOBSCOT.

- 2. The Yacht Club; OR, THE YOUNG BOAT BUILDERS.

- 3. Money-Maker; OR, THE VICTORY OF THE BASILISK.

- 4. The Coming Wave; OR, THE TREASURE OF HIGH ROCK.

- 5. The Dorcas Club; OR, OUR GIRLS AFLOAT.

- 6. Ocean Born; OR, THE CRUISE OF THE CLUBS.

“The series has this peculiarity, that all of its constituent volumes are independent of one another, and therefore each story is complete in itself. OLIVER OPTIC is, perhaps, the favorite author of the boys and girls of this country, and he seems destined to enjoy an endless popularity. He deserves his success, for he makes very interesting stories, and inculcates none but the best sentiments, and the ‘Yacht Club’ is no exception to this rule.”—New Haven Journal and Courier.

Onward and Upward Series. By OLIVER OPTIC. In six volumes. Illustrated. Any volume sold separately. Price per volume, $1.25.

- 1. Field and Forest; OR, THE FORTUNES OF A FARMER.

- 2. Plane and Plank; OR, THE MISHAPS OF A MECHANIC.

- 3. Desk and Debit; OR, THE CATASTROPHES OF A CLERK.

- 4. Cringle and Crosstree; OR, THE SEA SWASHES OF A SAILOR.

- 5. Bivouac and Battle; OR, THE STRUGGLES OF A SOLDIER.

- 6. Sea and Shore; OR, THE TRAMPS OF A TRAVELLER.

“Paul Farringford, the hero of these tales, is, like most of this author’s heroes, a young man of high spirit, and of high aims and correct principles, appearing in the different volumes as a farmer, a captain, a bookkeeper, a soldier, a sailor, and a traveller. In all of them the hero meets with very exciting adventures, told in the graphic style for which the author is famous.”

The Lake Shore Series. By OLIVER OPTIC. In six volumes. Illustrated. Any volume sold separately. Price per volume, $1.25.

- 1. Through by Daylight; OR, THE YOUNG ENGINEER OF THE LAKE SHORE RAILROAD.

- 2. Lightning Express; OR, THE RIVAL ACADEMIES.

- 3. On Time; OR, THE YOUNG CAPTAIN OF THE UCAYGA STEAMER.

- 4. Switch Off; OR, THE WAR OF THE STUDENTS.

- 5. Brake Up; OR, THE YOUNG PEACEMAKERS.

- 6. Bear and Forbear; OR, THE YOUNG SKIPPER OF LAKE UCAYGA.

“OLIVER OPTIC is one of the most fascinating writers for youth, and withal one of the best to be found in this or any past age. Troops of young people hang over his vivid pages; and not one of them ever learned to be mean, ignoble, cowardly, selfish, or to yield to any vice from anything they ever read from his pen.”—Providence Press.

The Famous Boat Club Series. By OLIVER OPTIC. Six volumes. Illustrated. Any volume sold separately. Price per volume $1.25.

- 1. The Boat Club; OR, THE BUNKERS OF RIPPLETON.

- 2. All Aboard; OR, LIFE ON THE LAKE.

- 3. Now or Never; OR, THE ADVENTURES OF BOBBY BRIGHT.

- 4. Try Again; OR, THE TRIALS AND TRIUMPHS OF HARRY WEST.

- 5. Poor and Proud; OR, THE FORTUNES OF KATY REDBURN.

- 6. Little by Little; OR, THE CRUISE OF THE FLYAWAY.

“This is the first series of books written for the young by OLIVER OPTIC. It laid the foundation for his fame as the first of authors in which the young delight, and gained for him the title of the Prince of Story Tellers. The six books are varied in incident and plot, but all are entertaining and original.”

(Other volumes in preparation.)

Young America Abroad: A LIBRARY OF TRAVEL AND ADVENTURE IN FOREIGN LANDS. By OLIVER OPTIC. Illustrated by NAST and others. First Series. Six volumes. Any volume sold separately. Price per volume, $1.25.

- 1. Outward Bound; OR, YOUNG AMERICA AFLOAT.

- 2. Shamrock and Thistle; OR, YOUNG AMERICA IN IRELAND AND SCOTLAND.

- 3. Red Cross; OR, YOUNG AMERICA IN ENGLAND AND WALES.

- 4. Dikes and Ditches; OR, YOUNG AMERICA IN HOLLAND AND BELGIUM.

- 5. Palace and Cottage; OR, YOUNG AMERICA IN FRANCE AND SWITZERLAND.

- 6. Down the Rhine; OR, YOUNG AMERICA IN GERMANY.

“The story from its inception, and through the twelve volumes (see Second Series), is a bewitching one, while the information imparted concerning the countries of Europe and the isles of the sea is not only correct in every particular, but is told in a captivating style. OLIVER OPTIC will continue to be the boys’ friend, and his pleasant books will continue to be read by thousands of American boys. What a fine holiday present either or both series of ‘Young America Abroad’ would be for a young friend! It would make a little library highly prized by the recipient, and would not be an expensive one.”—Providence Press.

Young America Abroad. By OLIVER OPTIC. Second Series. Six volumes. Illustrated. Any volume sold separately. Price per volume, $1.25.

- 1. Up the Baltic; OR, YOUNG AMERICA IN NORWAY, SWEDEN, AND DENMARK.

- 2. Northern Lands; OR, YOUNG AMERICA IN RUSSIA AND PRUSSIA.

- 3. Cross and Crescent; OR, YOUNG AMERICA IN TURKEY AND GREECE.

- 4. Sunny Shores; OR, YOUNG AMERICA IN ITALY AND AUSTRIA.

- 5. Vine and Olive; OR, YOUNG AMERICA IN SPAIN AND PORTUGAL.

- 6. Isles of the Sea; OR, YOUNG AMERICA HOMEWARD BOUND.

“OLIVER OPTIC is a nom de plume that is known and loved by almost every boy of intelligence in the land. We have seen a highly intellectual and world-weary man, a cynic whose heart was somewhat embittered by its large experience of human nature, take up one of OLIVER OPTIC’S books, and read it at a sitting, neglecting his work in yielding to the fascination of the pages. When a mature and exceedingly well-informed mind, long despoiled of all its freshness, can thus find pleasure in a book for boys, no additional words of recommendation are needed.”—Sunday Times.

LEE AND SHEPARD, BOSTON, SEND THEIR COMPLETE CATALOGUE FREE.

Transcriber’s Notes:

Punctuation, and spelling inaccuracies were silently corrected.

Archaic and variable spelling has been preserved.

Variations in hyphenation and compound words have been preserved.

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Table of Contents

REUBEN STONE’S DISCOVERY

PREFACE TO THE REVISED EDITION.

CONTENTS.

CHAPTER I. THE YOUNG MILLER.

CHAPTER II. AT THE BANK.

CHAPTER III. BAD NEWS.

CHAPTER IV. MR. ENOS NORTON.

CHAPTER V. HOT WORDS.

CHAPTER VI. AT ROCK ISLAND.

CHAPTER VII. A PITCHED BATTLE.

CHAPTER VIII. A BLOW FROM BEHIND.

CHAPTER IX. THE TWO STRANGERS.

CHAPTER X. A SURPRISE.

CHAPTER XI. MR. NORTON’S MOVE.

CHAPTER XII. A MIDNIGHT CRIME.

CHAPTER XIII. AT SQUIRE SLOCUM’S HOUSE.

CHAPTER XIV. MR. NORTON’S STATEMENT.

CHAPTER XV. SOME FACTS IN THE CASE.

CHAPTER XVI. A FRIEND IN NEED.

CHAPTER XVII. BACK TO THE MILL.

CHAPTER XVIII. A MOMENT OF EXCITEMENT.

CHAPTER XIX. LIVELY WORK.

CHAPTER XX. WE MAKE A PRISONER.

CHAPTER XXI. A STORM ON THE LAKE.

CHAPTER XXII. AN INTERESTING CONVERSATION.

CHAPTER XXIII. CAPTURED.

CHAPTER XXIV. IN THE WOODS.

CHAPTER XXV. A MIRACULOUS ESCAPE.

CHAPTER XXVI. THE CHASE.

CHAPTER XXVII. AT THE DEPOT.

CHAPTER XXVIII. THE PURSUIT BECOMES PERILOUS.

CHAPTER XXIX. MR. NORTON’S ACCUSATION.

CHAPTER XXX. NORTON BIXBY.

CHAPTER XXXI. A LUCKY FIND.

CHAPTER XXXII. A WELCOME ARRIVAL.

CHAPTER XXXIII. A HAPPY ENDING.

THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG™ LICENSE