"And stole the money?"

"I didn't. I never stole a penny in my life."

"Come, I like that."

"It is the truth."

"But they won't believe it over to the Reform School," laughed the man.

"They will one of these days, perhaps."

"You are a smart youngster; but I don't know as I can make five dollars any easier than by taking you back where you come from."

"Yes, you can," replied Bobby, promptly.

"Can I?"

"Yes."

"How?"

"By letting me go."

"Eh; you talk flush. I suppose you mean to give me your note, payable when the Kennebec dries up."

"Cash on the nail," replied Bobby. "You look like a man with a heart in your bosom,"--Bobby stole this pa.s.sage from "The Wayfarer."

"I reckon I have. The time hasn't come yet when Sam Ray could see a fellow-creature in distress and not help him out. But to help a thief off----"

"We will argue that matter," interposed Bobby. "I can prove to you beyond a doubt that I am innocent of the crime charged upon me."

"You don't look like a bad boy, I must say."

"But, Mr. Ray, I'm hungry; I haven't eaten a mouthful since yesterday noon."

"Thunder! You don't say so!" exclaimed Sam Ray. "I never could bear to see a man hungry, much more a boy; so come along to my house and get something to eat, and we will talk about the other matter afterwards."

Sam Ray took Bobby to the little old house in which he dwelt; and in a short time his wife, who expressed her sympathy for the little fugitive in the warmest terms, had placed an abundant repast upon the table. Our hero did ample justice to it, and when he had finished he felt like a new creature.

"Now, Mr. Ray, let me tell you my story," said Bobby.

"I don't know as it's any use. Now you have eat my bread and b.u.t.ter, I don't feel like being mean to you. If anybody else wants to carry you back, they may; I won't."

"But you shall hear me;" and Bobby proceeded to deliver his "plain, unvarnished tale."

When he had progressed but a little way in the narrative, the noise of an approaching vehicle was heard. Sam looked out of the window, as almost everybody does in the country when a carriage pa.s.ses.

"By thunder! It's the Reform School wagon!" exclaimed he. "This way, boy!" and the good-hearted man thrust him into his chamber, bidding him get under the bed.

The carriage stopped at the house; but Sam evaded a direct reply, and the superintendent--for it was he--proceeded on his search.

"Heaven bless you, Mr. Ray!" exclaimed Bobby, when he came out of the chamber, as the tears of grat.i.tude coursed down his cheeks.

"O, you will find Sam Ray all right," said he, warmly pressing Bobby's proffered hand. "I ain't quite a heathen, though some folks around here think so."

"You are an angel!"

"Not exactly," laughed Sam.

Our hero finished his story, and confirmed it by exhibiting his account book and some other papers which he had retained. Sam Ray was satisfied, and vowed that if ever he saw Tom Spicer he would certainly "lick" him for his sake.

"Now, sonny, I like you; I will be sworn you are a good fellow; and I mean to help you off. So just come along with me. I make my living by browsing round, hunting and fishing a little, and doing an odd job now and then. You see, I have got a good boat down the creek, and I shall just put you aboard and take you anywhere you have a mind to go."

"May Heaven reward you!" cried Bobby, almost overcome by this sudden and unexpected kindness.

"O, I don't want no reward; only when you get to be a great man--and I am dead sure you will be a great man--just think now and then of Sam Ray, and it's all right."

"I shall remember you with grat.i.tude as long as I live."

Sam Ray took his gun on his shoulder, and Bobby the box of provisions which Mrs. Ray had put up, and they left the house. At the bridge they got into a little skiff, and Sam took the oars. After they had pa.s.sed a bend in the creek which concealed them from the road, Bobby felt secure from further molestation.

Sam pulled about two miles down the creek, where it widened into a broad bay, near the head of which was anch.o.r.ed a small schooner.

"Now, my hearty, nothing short of Uncle Sam's whole navy can get you away from me," said Sam, as he pulled alongside the schooner.

"You have been very kind to me."

"All right, sonny. Now tumble aboard."

Bobby jumped upon the deck of the little craft and Sam followed him, after making fast the skiff to the schooner's moorings.

In a few minutes the little vessel was standing down the bay with "a fresh wind and a flowing sheet." Bobby, who had never been in a sail boat before, was delighted, and in no measured terms expressed his admiration of the working of the trim little craft.

"Now, sonny, where shall we go?" asked Sam, as they emerged from the bay into the broad ocean.

"I don't know," replied Bobby. "I want to get back to Boston."

"Perhaps I can put you aboard of some coaster bound there."

"That will do nicely."

"I will head towards Boston, and if I don't overhaul anything, I will take you there myself."

"Is this boat big enough to go so far?"

"She'll stand anything short of a West India hurricane. You ain't afeard, are you?"

"O, no; I like it."