While this brief colloquy had been going on, Phil and Jack, with sparkling eyes, waited at the edge of the wharf for the reappearance of Mr. Belleville. Up he came presently, splashing and sputtering, his eyes flashing angry sparks. Phil held out a hand; a vigorous pull, a scramble, and he stood once more on the wharf. Gerald walked up to him at once. "I beg your pardon, Claud!" he said. "I had no business to do it, and I apologize."

Claud gave a spiteful laugh, and shook himself in his cousin's direction, spattering him with drops. "Don't mention it, dear fellow!"

he said, through his chattering teeth. "It serves me right for expecting civilized manners in the backwoods. This no doubt appears to you an exquisite pleasantry, and its delicacy will be appreciated, no doubt, by others of your circle. _Enfin_, in the presence of your father, whom I respect, I can but accept your apology. Since you are sorry--"

"I did not say I was sorry!" Gerald broke in. "I said I begged your pardon."

"My son, will you go at once and attend to the fire?" said Mr.

Merryweather.

"Father--"

"_At once!_" repeated Mr. Merryweather.

Gerald went.

"Phil, take your cousin in, and get him some dry clothes. His own will be dry before the wagon comes, if you hang them by the kitchen stove.

Hurry now!"

Phil and Claud went off in surly silence, and Mr. Merryweather turned to Jack Ferrers, who had remained an amused but somewhat embarra.s.sed spectator of the scene.

"Puppy play, Jack!" he said, quietly. "You have seen plenty of it in Germany. One puppy _is_ a puppy, more's the pity, and the other has red hair. Well! well! I did hope this could have been avoided; but we must not let it go any further. I wish Roger were here. I wonder if you can help me out, Jack."

"I'll do my best, sir!" said Jack, heartily.

"You see, I must go off; I ought to be at the village landing this moment, to see about that freight that is coming. Do you think you can keep the peace till I come back?"

"I think I can," said Jack. "I'll make a good try for it, anyhow, Mr.

Merryweather."

"That's a good lad!" said the Chief. "You could knock both their heads together, if you put your mind--and your biceps--to it; but I hope that will not be necessary. In any case, don't let them fight! I promised his mother."

He nodded, and, settling himself in a boat, departed with long, powerful strokes.

Jack, left alone, shook his curly head, and felt of his arms.

"Ah'm fit!" he said, quoting another and a bigger Jock than himself.

"But it's a pity. That fellow is not only a puppy, he is a cur. I never saw anybody who needed a thrashing more." And he went and coiled himself in a hammock, and prepared to keep watch.

An hour later Mr. Claud Belleville, once more dry, if somewhat shorn of his glory, reappeared upon the scene. As he came out of his tent, Gerald strolled carelessly out of the boat-house, his hands in his pockets.

"Cousin Rowdy, a word with you, if you please!" said Claud.

"Cousin Cad, two, if you like!" said Gerald.

"In France, where I live," Mr. Belleville resumed, "when we are insulted, we fight."

"No! do you really?" cried Gerald, his eyes sparkling as he began eagerly to turn back his cuffs. "Hooray! I say, shake hands, Claud. I didn't think you had it in you. There's a bully place up behind the woodshed. Come on!"

Claud Belleville, who really was no coward, started forward readily: but at this moment Destiny intervened, in the shape of six foot four of John Ferrers. Uncoiling his length from the hammock, he took two strides forward, and lifting Gerald in his arms as if he were an infant, carried him off bodily. Gerald, who was strong and agile as a young panther, fought and struggled, pouring out a torrent of angry protest; but in vain. When Jack put forth his full strength, there was no possibility of resistance. He bore the furious lad to his tent, and throwing him on the cot, deliberately sat down on his feet, in calm and cheerful silence. Gerald twisted and writhed, exhausted himself in struggles, threats, prayers; all in vain! Jack sat like a statue. Finally the boy relapsed into sullen silence, and lay panting, his hand clenched, his blue eyes dark with anger and chagrin.

By and by came the sound of wheels; a wagon stopped in front of the camp. There were sounds of leave-taking; "Good-by, Claud!" "Our love to your mother!" in various tones and modulations; then the sound of wheels once more, rattling up the hill and away in the distance. Then Jack Ferrers rose, and smiled down on his prostrate friend.

"Awfully sorry, old man!" he said.

Gerald was silent.

"Jerry! you're not going to cut up rough?"

"I have nothing to say," said Gerald, coldly.

"You are my guest, and manners forbid. We will change the subject, if you please."

"Manners didn't forbid your chucking the Charmer into the drink!" said Jack. "Ho! did you see him blink when he came up? It was worth while, Jerry, even if I have to fight you, but I don't believe I shall. You see, your father had to go off, and he asked me to keep the peace, and I said I would; and I didn't see any other way, wildcat that you are. A sweet condition the Charmer would have been in to go back to his Mamma, if I had not done as I did!"

"I might have known the Pater was at the bottom of it!" said Gerald, his face lightening, and his voice taking on its own kindly ring. "Fine man; but the extent to which he won't let me thrash Claud is simply disgusting. When it comes to setting a Megatherium on a man--"

"And to the Megatherium sitting on the man--" said Jack, laughing.

"No more o' that, Jack, if thou love me! There's the horn! Come on, and let that flint-hearted parent see that we are all right."

The pair strolled in to supper, arm in arm, singing, to the tune of "Home, Sweet Home!"

"Claud, Claud, sweet, sweet Claud!

There's no a.s.s like Claud, There is no a.s.s like Claud!"

and were promptly silenced by Mrs. Merryweather.

CHAPTER XI.

MRS. MERRYWEATHER'S VIGIL

MRS. MERRYWEATHER had had a busy day. There had been a picnic at Oak Island, which had taken all the morning and a good part of the afternoon; then there had been a dozen letters to write for the late mail; and finally she had taken Kitty's turn with w.i.l.l.y at getting supper, as Kitty had a headache. The sisters protested, each one claiming her right to take the extra duty; but Mrs. Merryweather had her own reasons for being glad of the hour of play-work with her little boy.

w.i.l.l.y had been rather out of spirits, which meant that he, as well as his sister, had eaten too many huckleberries; this afternoon he had been decidedly cross, and required treatment.

Coming into the kitchen at five o'clock, she found the fire lighted, and the kettle on, for w.i.l.l.y was a faithful soul; but he was frowning heavily over his chopping-tray.

"I wish mince-meat had never been invented!" he said, gloomily.

"Do you?" said his mother. "I don't! I am glad it was, even if I did not have three helps last night."

"I was so hungry, I had to eat something," said w.i.l.l.y, in an injured tone. "When I grow up, I mean to have beefsteak every day, and never have anything made over at all."

"I'll remember that, the next time we have brown-bread brewis!" said his mother smiling.