We'll shoot some rabbits and have a high old Christmas. Make Uncle George let you chaps all come for the winter vacation. I'll look out for you. I'm going back home from the city to-morrow.

"Affectionately your cousin,

"Edward Warren,

"Address, Millstone Landing,

"St. Mary County, Maryland."

"Whee!" yelled Young Joe. "I'm going to put for home, and ask father.

Say, I wonder what kind of syrup they have on those corn fritters."

"Tobacco syrup," replied George Warren, solemnly. "That's what they raise on all the farms down there. It's awful bitter, too, at first, but you get used to it, so they say."

"You think you're funny, don't you?" said Joe. "It's corn syrup; that's what it is. I want to go, don't you?"

"Well, perhaps so," replied George Warren. And, turning to his companion, asked, "What do you say, Henry?"

"Why, I'm not invited," replied Henry Burns.

"Oh, yes, you are, isn't he, fellows? Ed said bring anybody we wanted.

Well, we want you."

The brothers chimed in, heartily.

"Why, I'd like to go, first rate, if I can," said Henry Burns.

"Then we'll do it," said George Warren-"that is, if the folks will let us. You'll like Ed. He's older than we are-about twenty; but he likes fun as much as we do. It's a big old farm house, with open fire-places and things. We'll make the place hum. Come on, let's go home."

There was little peace in the Warren household that night until the matter had been duly discussed in all its phases, and the coveted permission granted; whereupon, there was a departure in force for the home of Miss Matilda Burns. There, however, the resistance was stronger.

Henry Burns's aunt did not yield consent without reluctance nor without a struggle. There was Jack Harvey, she said, who went to Baltimore and never came back. Goodness knew where he might be. She didn't believe in boys going off without someone to look after them.

There was, in reply, positive a.s.surance from all hands that Jack Harvey was all right and having the finest time of his life, travelling about Europe.

It was an unequal contest, and the opposition was finally overcome.

"See that you don't run off to Europe-or anywhere else, though, except to Mr. Warren's," Miss Matilda added, smiling. "And, Henry, you've got to write me twice a week."

Henry Burns groaned, but promised.

"She didn't say how much to write," he commented, inwardly, with a vision of a sheet of paper bearing the words, "Dear Aunt, I'm all right," in his mind.

With which successful turn of affairs, the four let out such a series of shrieks of triumph that poor Miss Matilda Burns nearly fell out of her chair.

Four days later, there arrived in Baltimore four smiling youths, vastly elated at their freedom; vastly puffed up with the importance of being travellers at large, without a guardian.

It was a sharp, crisp winter morning, of the 15th of December, to be precise; the old river boat of the Patuxent line lay in its berth at Light street, making its own hearty breakfast off soft coal, and pouring out clouds of black smoke from its funnel, with vigour and apparent satisfaction. The cabins were warming up, and the last of a huge pile of freight was being stowed away below. The four boys, shortly before half past six-the early hour of departure-made their way aboard.

There was a jingling of bells, the lines were cast off, the gang-planks drawn in, and the steamer was on its way down Chesapeake Bay.

The day pa.s.sed pleasantly, for it was all new to them, and the bay, with its peculiar craft, presented many attractions. They were hungry as tigers, too, as they seated themselves at the cabin table for dinner.

"You've got the wrong side of the cabin, young gentlemen," said the coloured waiter, politely. "That other side's the one for white folks."

They changed places, accordingly.

"Wonder what would happen to us, if we sat over there?" remarked Arthur Warren.

"Perhaps we'd turn black," said Henry Burns.

"Well, Joe always eats till he's black in the face when he gets a good dinner," said George Warren.

Young Joe sniffed, contemptuously.

After dinner they strolled about the boat. There were not a great number of pa.s.sengers aboard, and the four kept their own company. The only exception for the afternoon was in the case of a young man, who accosted the party as they happened to pause for a moment in front of the open door of his state-room. He was a youth of about nineteen years, but with the manner of a man of the world. He sat, with his feet up on the foot of the bed, smoking a cigar and filling the room with clouds of smoke. A derby hat was perched rakishly on the back of his head. His dress was smart in appearance, though not new, and his coat thrown back revealed a waist-coat of brilliant hue and flaring design.

"How'd do," he said, removing his cigar, and waving a hand rather patronizingly to them. "Step in. Strangers down this way, I see. Have a smoke?"

He motioned to a table on which there was a box of the cigars.

"No, thanks," replied George Warren. "Don't smoke."

They would have pa.s.sed on, but the young man was not to be wholly denied.

He had a free and easy flow of conversation, which would not be stopped for the moment, and which culminated in the offer-indicating his design from the first-of a game of cards with them, which, he a.s.sured them, should not cost them but little, if anything, with the alluring alternative that they might be fortunate enough to win his money.

"Say," interrupted Henry Burns at this point, "why don't you fix your neck-tie?"

The youth, surprised at the interruption, paused and laid down his cigar on the edge of the table. He put both hands to the tie, a gaudy one tied sailor fashion, and turned to Henry Burns.

"Why, what's the matter with it?" he asked, in a tone of wonderment.

"Isn't it all right?"

"Why, yes, it looks so," replied Henry Burns, coolly and without changing countenance; "but I thought perhaps you might like to untie it and tie it over again. Come on, fellows."

The consciousness that he had been made game of by the youth flashed upon the stranger, as the boys moved on. He half arose from his seat, while a flush of anger spread over his sallow face. A person on the threshold accosted him at this moment. He looked into the face of a tall man, who was smiling in at him.

"Why, h.e.l.lo, Jenkins," said the man. "What's up? You look as though your dinner didn't set right. What are you doing down this way?"

Mr. Jenkins returned the man's smile with a scowl.

"Nothing's the matter," he said, surlily. "Come in and have a smoke. I'm going up the river for a week. I used to live up that way, you know.

Business is dull, and I'm going up to the old place for Christmas. Shut that door, and we'll have a talk."

The four boys from Benton had had their first meeting, brief and fleeting, with Arthur Jenkins.

It was still daylight when the steamer turned the Drum Point light-house and headed into the Patuxent river. It was a picturesque sight that the four boys looked upon. Scattered here and there over the water, and coming into harbour for the night, was a fleet of dredging vessels. Some of them, rivals in speed, were racing, with all sail set, heeling far over and throwing up little spurts of water at their bows. The sight captivated Henry Burns, and he gazed with interest.

"My! but I'd like to be aboard that fellow," he cried, as a fleet bug-eye crept up on a rival craft and swept proudly and gracefully past.