Crack!

As I have stated, the guardrail on the yacht was rotten, and under the unusual weight, it gave way with a crash.

Splash!

The miser of the island had lost his balance, and after vainly clutching the air to save himself, had floundered into the water and mud below!

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE MISER OF THE ISLAND HAD LOST HIS BALANCE, AND AFTER VAINLY CLUTCHING THE AIR TO SAVE HIMSELF, HAD FLOUNDERED INTO THE WATER AND MUD BELOW.]

"h.e.l.lo!" exclaimed Jack. "There's an accident that's lucky for us."

"He'll have all he can do to take care of himself," remarked Mont.

"Serves him right," put in Meg, with a laugh. She had not taken the whole affair very seriously. "Maybe it'll cool his blood."

The three saw Mosey rush to Max Pooler's a.s.sistance, and then, without waiting to see the outcome of the mishap, the girl again bent to the oars, and sent the boat flying onward.

"What do you intend to do?" asked Jack of Meg, as they neared the sh.o.r.e.

"You can't very well go back. I'll help you if I can."

"I don't know," replied the young girl, in perplexity. "I've had enough of life over there."

"Suppose you go over to Farmer Farrell's with us, I think he will board you for a few days anyway, and in the meantime you can find out what's best to do."

"I ain't got no money."

"We'll make that all right," replied the young machinist. "But didn't Pooler ever pay you anything?"

"Pay me? Don't catch him giving out a cent if he can help it. All I got was these duds--'em as was left when his wife died."

"Not much, certainly," put in Mont, surveying the tattered and patched dress.

"Other folks earn money, and I guess I can, too, if I try," continued Meg, as she ran the boat up the accustomed beaching place.

"Certainly you can," declared Jack.

"And have a better living than you had at the island," added the young man.

It was growing dusk when they stepped ash.o.r.e. Meg tied the boat fast and left the oars on the seats, certain that the craft would not remain uncalled for long.

It was but a short walk to Farmer Farrell's place. They found him driving home the cows, and on the doorstep, joined by his wife, the two honest people listened to what Jack and Mont had to say about themselves and Meg.

The girl stood in the background, much of her former shyness having returned. At the conclusion of the tale, Mrs. Farrell took her hand warmly.

"Poor child! you've had a hard time of it, truly!" she said, "But you sha'n't have any more trouble--at least, not for the present, eh, father?"

"No, we can keep her easily enough," replied her husband. "You want help, Martha, summer coming on, with all the extra work."

"And we'll pay you, too," continued Mrs. Farrell.

"Oh, thank you!" exclaimed Meg. "You 're real kind. Maybe I can't do things just right, but I guess I can learn, and you needn't give me a cent till I do."

"Then, that's settled," said Jack, somewhat pleased at having the matter so easily arranged.

"If only Pooler don't make me go back."

"You say you're no relation of his?" asked Mont.

"Not's I know. He always called me a picked-up."

"Then just let him try it," put in Farmer Farrell, grimly. "I know the man well. He pretends to own Blackbird Island, but he hain't got no more t.i.tle 'n I have."

"And maybe I can get you a few dresses from my sister, and----" began Jack.

"Well, there, by Jinks!" exclaimed Farmer Farrell, jumping up from the step upon which he had been sitting. "I almost forgot it, being so interested in your story. Your sister was here looking for you."

"Deb!" Jack was indeed astonished, and so was Mont. "What did she want here? Looking for me?"

"Yes; she's had a terrible time. Your model's stolen, and she's been put out of the house for not paying the rent."

The news startled the young machinist. In the excitement he had forgotten all about Mr. Hammerby and the quit notice.

"Did she say where she had moved to?" he asked anxiously.

"No, she was in too much of a hurry. She was frightened half to death on account of your being missing."

"No doubt of it. Poor Deb! Her troubles are as bad as ours," remarked Mont.

"Which way did she go?" was the young machinist's question.

"Toward home again," said Farrell; "I wanted her to stay the worst way when I found out who she was, but she wouldn't think of it."

"Maybe we can overtake her," suggested Mont.

"We'll try, anyway," returned Jack.

He was much worried over the fact that Deb had been compelled to vacate the old home; and then he suddenly remembered that all of his money had been stolen by Corrigan.

"Without a home and without money," he thought dismally. "Well, thank G.o.d, my life has been spared, and, as Deb said, 'maybe it will all come out right in the end.'"

Yet his heart was by no means light, as Mont and he set out for Corney.

CHAPTER XVIII.

DEB AT THE MILL