exclaimed Tom Edwards. "I'll have the law on him for this."

Thus they talked and planned, but said naught to the others, lest word of their contemplated revenge should get, by chance, to Haley's ears. And then, one evening, another bug-eye hove in sight as they lay at anchor, and came alongside.

"All hands out, to unload," called Haley.

"Look alive here," repeated Jim Adams; "'spects we've got an all night job before us."

Taken by surprise, Harvey and Tom Edwards obeyed the summons. The work they were next called upon to do dumbfounded and appalled them. With a tackle and fall attached to the mast, the work of unloading the cargo of the Brandt and transferring it to the hold of the other vessel was begun.

"What does this mean? What are they going to do? Aren't we going up to Baltimore with our load?" inquired Harvey, falteringly, of Sam Black.

"Why, you fool, of course not," was the reply. "Did you think you were going to quit so soon as this? Think old man Haley lets a man go when he once gets him, with men so hard to catch? Didn't you know you were booked for all winter? Baltimore, eh? Well, when you see Baltimore, my boy, it will be when the Brandt knocks off for the season. Don't worry, though, you'll come through. You can stand it."

Jack Harvey and Tom Edwards, gazing into each other's faces with the blankness of despair, shook hands silently. They could not speak.

CHAPTER IX FACES THROUGH THE TELESCOPE

It was after school hours in the little city of Benton, on a day near the middle of December, and a party of youths, with skates under their arms, were walking toward the bank of Mill stream. A huge fire, of pieces of logs and brush-wood, blazed cheerily by the sh.o.r.e, and welcomed their approach. The frozen surface of the stream, swept clean by high winds of previous days, shone like polished ebony, and stretched away to the northward for a mile before it became lost to view amid high banks, on its winding course.

The sun, a great red ball, nearing the western horizon, sent a rose-tinged pathway across the black ice from sh.o.r.e to sh.o.r.e. A score or more of skaters, some engaged in cutting fancy figures, others swinging along on the outward roll, others having an impromptu race, made the air ring with their shouts of hearty enjoyment.

Seated on a log, by the fire, one of the party of boys addressed his nearest comrade.

"Say, Henry Burns," he asked, "have you heard anything from Harvey, yet?"

Henry Burns, a rather slight but trimly built and active youth, apparently a year or two younger than the boy who had spoken, paused in the adjustment of the clamp of his skate, and looked puzzled.

"No," he answered, "and, what's more, I don't expect to, now. Jack Harvey rather take a licking than write a letter, anyway. And, another thing, he's having too much fun, I suppose, to stop to write."

"Still, it's queer," he continued. "I didn't think he'd go off the way he did. He told me he wouldn't go, no matter how much his folks urged him.

Said he knew he'd have more fun here with us this winter than poking 'round Europe with his father and mother; said his mother wouldn't let him wear his sweater in art galleries and in stores-rather skate, and fish through the ice, than dress up and go around looking at things in shop windows and museums."

"Well, they must have got him to go, after all," said the first boy.

"Too bad," commented Henry Burns, standing up on his skates. "He's missing lots of fun. It scared my aunt, too, for a few days. She thought he might have got lost. Just as though Jack couldn't take care of himself. But she remembered they said if he didn't come back she could know he'd gone on the steamer to Europe. So she's feeling all right now.

I'd like to know what they offered Jack, to get him to go, though."

Henry Burns's companion, George Warren, having adjusted his skates, arose and glided down the bank to the ice.

"Come on, Arthur," he said, calling to a brother, a year or two younger, who was still lingering by the fire; "we'll give Henry a race up to the bend. He thinks he knows how to skate."

The brothers started off, with Henry Burns soon in swift pursuit; the three went rapidly up the stream, the keen edges of their skates cutting the glare ice with a crisp, grinding hum. Henry Burns caught the two by the time they had gone half a mile, for he was a youth whose wiry muscles seemed never to tire; and the three linked arms and went on together.

Presently a still younger boy came hurrying down to the sh.o.r.e, in a state of activity that had left him short of breath. He was smaller, but heavier of build than the others who had gone before, with a plumpness of cheeks that told of evident enjoyment of good dinners; also, his was a temperament, one would have guessed, that was more inclined to ease than to any great exertion. But now he fastened on his skates hastily and joined the party of skaters in mid-stream.

"Seen George and Arthur?" he inquired of a group of boys.

"Gone up-stream with Henry Burns," was the reply.

The boy started off, bending forward and making his best time. Some fifteen minutes later, the three, returning, saw him coming.

"There's Joe," said George Warren. "Looks as though he was skating for a dinner. He'll get thin if he doesn't take care. Let's give him a surprise."

The three quickly hid themselves behind some alder bushes and cedars that fringed the bank. Young Joe Warren came on, unconscious of their presence. He realized it presently as he came abreast. A snow-ball, thrown with accuracy by Henry Burns, neatly lifted his cap from his head; one from George Warren attached itself in fragments to his plump neck; the third smashed against his shoulder. The combined effect of which, with the surprise, so disturbed the equilibrium of the skater that his feet suddenly flew out from under him, and he came down with a thump, seated on the ice, and slid along in a sitting posture for nearly a rod.

"Too bad, poor old Joey," said George Warren, sympathetically, gliding out to his brother's a.s.sistance; "somebody threw a snow-ball and hit you, I guess. Get up on your feet and we'll all go after him."

Young Joe, angry at first, was not wholly unmindful of the humour of the situation, as viewed from the position of the group that now tenderly offered their a.s.sistance. Moreover, he had had a taste of this sort of thing before.

"That's all right," he said, "never you mind about helping me up. I don't need any help. I'll pay that fellow off some other time." He reached a hand in his coat pocket and drew forth an envelope, eagerly.

"You don't deserve this, George," he said, "and like as not you wouldn't get it until you got home, if I didn't want to see what's in it. Gee!

fellows, what do you think? It's a letter from Jack Harvey. Oh, I haven't read it, George. It's for you. But I know it's from Jack, because it's from Baltimore. That's the post-mark."

"Baltimore!" exclaimed Henry Burns. "Then there's something the matter.

Why, he ought to have left Baltimore weeks ago. Whew! You don't suppose he's got hurt, after all?"

"And say," he added, wonderingly, "what's he writing to you for? Why didn't he write to me or my aunt? Perhaps someone is writing for him."

The boys, in a high state of excitement, gathered close to George Warren while he tore open the envelope, which was, sure enough, stamped with the Baltimore post-mark, and was addressed in a bold, plain hand to George Warren.

George Warren gave a whistle of surprise the next moment; Henry Burns, an exclamation of mingled relief and disappointment.

"It isn't from Jack, nor about him," they cried almost in the same breath. And George Warren added, buoyantly, "Say, it's all right.

Fellows, Cousin Ed wants us to come down for the holidays and visit him.

My! But I'm glad there's nothing the matter with Jack. Here's what Ed says:

"Dear Cousin George:-Isn't it about time you youngsters made me that visit you've been promising? You've never been here, and you ought to see the place, though it isn't what it used to be in the old days. This isn't just the time to see the country at its best, of course, but it's a dull time with me, and I won't have anything to do but give you youngsters a good time.

"I'm all alone for the next two months, except Old Mammy Stevens to keep house for me. She can cook a turkey so it will just jump right down your throat; and corn fritters, the way she fries 'em, just melt in your mouth-"

Young Joe interrupted with a squeal of approval. "Let's go, George," he exclaimed.

"Shut up! Joe, and let George go on," admonished his brother, Arthur.

George Warren continued:

"We've got plenty of room for you and Arthur, and if Joe should come, why he could sleep out in the stable with the cattle-"

A howl of indignation from Young Joe.

"Let's see," he cried, reaching for the letter. "He doesn't say any such thing, I'll bet."

"Well, perhaps not," admitted George Warren. "Here's what it is." He began again:

"There's plenty of room in the old house for you three, and anybody else you've a mind to bring. I'll be glad to see any friend of yours.