There was a moment's silence and delay, and then a broad-shouldered youth pushed his way through the crowd and walked toward the witness-stand.

"Here!" cried His Honour. "Officer, stop that young man. Let the business of this court proceed in its regular order. Mr. Barker, does the court understand that you ask to have the case reopened on the ground of newly discovered evidence?"

"Yes, Your Honour," replied the squire, gravely.

"And this young man, do you wish to make him your witness?"

"I do, Your Honour," answered Squire Barker. "Although I am not certain as to just what he has to testify to, I wish to have him made our witness."

"State your name to the court," said Squire Barker, as the youth ascended the witness-stand.

"Jack Harvey."

"And am I correctly informed that you have important testimony to give before this court in this case?"

"I have the man that set the fire," replied Harvey.

"And can you produce him?"

"He is here in this room," answered Harvey.

And at this moment the crowd parted and allowed to pa.s.s a man who walked doggedly forward, with eyes downcast, hands firmly bound behind his back, while with him walked the remaining members of Harvey's crew.

"Is this the man whom you say set the fire?" queried Squire Barker.

"Yes," said Harvey.

"And how do you know he set the fire?"

"He's confessed it, because he knew there was no way out of it for him.

Haven't you?" demanded Harvey, turning to the man.

The other nodded his head sullenly.

The uproar that greeted this acknowledgment was deafening. It was several moments before order could be restored in the court-room, and then the news borne rapidly to those outside gave rise to a second tumult, which again stopped the proceedings of the court.

Then, when order had been finally restored, Harvey narrated the extraordinary events that had followed the meeting of the man in the pasture, down to his capture and confession; a confession that included the admission that he was none other than the man Chambers, and that he had set fire to the hotel for revenge.

There never was anything like the scene that followed in all the history of court procedure in the county from time out of mind. It did not take the court long, however, to declare that the youthful prisoners, whom he had felt it his solemn duty to hold for trial, were honourably cleared, and were free to go at liberty. It did not take long, considering the fact that the prisoner pleaded guilty, to hold him for trial. Nor did it take long for good-hearted Judge Ellis to descend from the bench and shake hands with the boys, each and every one of them, and congratulate them upon their complete exoneration.

Once outside the court-room, however, what a storm and tumult of congratulation awaited them. The first thing they knew there was a rush for them, and up on the shoulders of a crowd of excited fishermen they went, and were borne along, amid cheering. And Harvey, too, though he struggled against it, was borne aloft, while the news of his brave capture of the man Chambers was shouted out to all in the town.

In the midst of it all two figures were espied, slinking along toward the boat-landing, anxious to escape notice. A din of yells and catcalls and hisses told them they were discovered, and the colonel and the squire, sorry pictures of dismay and humiliation, quickened their steps and made their escape, thankful enough to escape unharmed from the indignant villagers.

"Harvey," said George Warren, as he stood grasping the other's hand about two hours later, as the boys formed a little group on the deck of the steamer that was heading for Southport, "you have more than evened the thing up. Tom and Bob saved you from drowning; but you have saved us all from disgrace, and I'm not sure but what I'd rather drown than go through a disgraceful ordeal like this again."

"No," said Harvey, clasping the hand of the other warmly. "I'm still the one that's in debt. They saved me from more than drowning. They saved me from disgrace, too."

"Let's call it even, anyway," said Henry Burns, "and shake hands all around."

Some weeks later, as Henry Burns and George Warren sat on the veranda of the Warren cottage, looking out across the cove, a graceful yacht turned the headland and came up into the harbour.

"She looks familiar," said Henry Burns. "Where have we seen her before?

Why, it's the _Eagle_, or the _Sprite_, or whatever her real name may be.

I wonder what she's doing here. She was seized by the county and her owners advertised for. I wonder if they can have been discovered."

"Let's go down and take a look at her," said George Warren. "She is the prettiest thing that ever came into this harbour."

As they walked down to the sh.o.r.e a boat put off from the yacht and a man pulled in to land.

"Can you tell me where I can find either Henry Burns or Jack Harvey?" he inquired, addressing the two boys.

"I don't know about Harvey," answered Henry b.u.ms, "but I can inform you about the other person. What do you want of him?"

"Here's a note for you, if you mean that you're Henry Burns," said the man.

"That's funny," said Henry Burns. "It's the first note I've got since I've been here. I wonder who can have written it."

Henry Burns deliberately tore open the envelope and unfolded a letter. He glanced hastily at the contents, stopped short, and gave a cry of surprise.

"George," he said, solemnly, "will you hit me once, good and hard, so I can tell whether I am dreaming or not?"

"I hardly think there's any need of that," answered the other, laughing.

"You seem to be about as wide-awake as usual."

"Well," said Henry Burns, "if you won't hit me, just read that letter to me aloud, anyway. Perhaps I'll believe it if I hear you read it."

"It seems to be addressed to you and Jack Harvey both," said George Warren. "Perhaps I need his permission, too, to read it."

"No you don't. Go ahead," demanded Henry Burns.

The letter read as follows:

"Mayville.

"Henry Burns and Jack Harvey,

"_My dear Young Men:_-You have each of you proved yourselves heroes in the events of the last few weeks. To you, Henry Burns, I am indebted for the rescue of my devoted Jerry, my pet and companion of many years.

To you and your companions, I am, indeed, indebted for my own life. To you, Jack Harvey, I am indebted for the saving from disgrace of these young friends of mine. As you may know, the yacht captured from the man Chambers was condemned by the county officials, advertised, and finally put up at auction and sold, her former owner, if there ever was another besides Chambers, not having claimed her. She was, I am informed, a very expensive boat; but as there were few bidders among the fishermen, I was enabled to bid off the boat at a figure easily within my means.

This letter is to inform you that I have presented the yacht to you, to be owned equally by you two. The papers will be made out later and sent to your parents or guardians. Hoping that you will enjoy many happy days aboard her, I remain,

"Sincerely yours, "Anna Newcome.

"P. S. Don't upset her and get drowned."

"Henry, old fellow," cried George Warren. "Let me congratulate you. You are the two luckiest-"

But Henry Burns was running as fast as his legs could carry him in the direction of Harvey's camp.