"Is that so?" said Jenkins. "Then I'll have to hitch her on behind and tow her home."

This was done and the little party was soon turned toward home.

They were closer to Paris than the girls had realized, and half an hour later they came in sight of the point from which they had started upon the long chase the day before.

As the boat drew close to the little landing, a woman with fiery red hair, her sleeves rolled up and a frown on her face, came hurrying toward them, and just as Jenkins leaped ash.o.r.e and tied the boat up, she seized him by the ear with her right hand.

"Tom Jenkins," she cried, "it's about time you were getting home. What do you mean by running away from me and not coming back?"

"But, Martha," protested Jenkins, his face turning red in confusion, "I was only helping these young people out. One of 'em had been kidnapped, and--"

"And you had to go along and see the fun, I suppose."

"Well, not exactly," said Mr. Jenkins. "I--"

"You come with me," said Mrs. Jenkins decisively.

She gave Jenkins' ear a sharp twist, and the latter howled with pain.

"Ow! Leggo my ear!" he screamed.

He twitched about, and with effort freed himself and stepped back.

"Let me explain," he said to his wife.

"You can explain when you get to the house," said Mrs. Jenkins angrily.

"If you ain't there in three minutes, I'll be back after you."

She strode majestically away.

Mr. Jenkins rubbed his ear and grinned ruefully.

"You see how it is," he exclaimed. "A man always gets the worst of it somehow when he gets mixed up with somebody else's business."

"We certainly appreciate your aid, Mr. Jenkins," said Shirley, offering her hand, which Jenkins grasped heartily.

The others also shook hands with him.

"Well," said Mr. Jenkins, "you know I'm glad to have been of-- All right, Martha, I'm coming!"

This last as the voice of his wife once more rang out with the demand:

"Are you coming, Tom Jenkins? Or do I have to come after you?"

He broke off suddenly and hastened toward the house to meet his spouse, who was coming toward him with rapid strides.

The girls laughed and the others joined them.

"Poor old Jenkins," said Leonard. "I'll bet he has a tough time."

"It looks that way," said d.i.c.k, with a faint smile.

He turned to Shirley.

"Now that you are safe at last," he said quietly, "I guess I may as well be going. There is nothing more for me to do."

Shirley was startled.

"Surely you will wait and let my father thank you?" she said.

d.i.c.k shook his head.

"It's enough for me to know I have been of service to you," he said. "I want no thanks."

"But," protested Shirley, "where are you going?"

"I don't know exactly," replied the boy. "Back to Cincinnati, I guess."

"Do your father and mother live there?" asked the girl.

"I have no father and mother," was the slow response.

"Forgive me," said Shirley impulsively. "I didn't know. What are you planning to do?"

Again the lad shook his head.

"I don't know," he said. "I guess I shall find a job of some kind, though."

"Surely you will not get mixed up with Jones again?" asked Shirley anxiously.

"No," replied d.i.c.k. "I am through with Jones and his kind forever."

Shirley breathed a sigh of relief.

"I am glad to hear that," she said. "How would you like to go home with us? I am sure Dad can find something for you to do on the farm."

"Thank you," replied d.i.c.k. "I am sorry, but I must decline."

Shirley gave it up.

"Well," she said, "you must decide for yourself. But I do want to thank you for the aid you have given us, and I shall always be glad to see you."

d.i.c.k bowed. The others approached and shook hands with him, and then he turned to go.

"Come and see us when you can, or at least let us hear from you,"

Shirley called after him.

d.i.c.k turned and bowed once more. Shirley waved her hand to him, and a moment later he disappeared.