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Maurice Keeler, wan, hollow-eyed, and miserable, was seated on a stool just outside the door in the early morning sunlight. Near him sat his mother, peeling potatoes, her portly form obscured by a trailing wistaria vine. What Maurice had endured during his two weeks with the measles nobody knew but himself. His days had been lonely, filled with remorse that he had ever been born to give people trouble and care; his nights longer even than the days. Hideous nightmares had robbed him of slumber. Old Scroggie's ghost had visited him almost nightly. The Twin Oaks robbers, ugly, hairy giants armed with red-hot pitch-forks, had bound him to a tree and applied fire to his feet. What use to struggle or cry aloud for help? Even Billy, his dearest chum, had sat and laughed with all the mouths of his eight heads at his pain. Of course he had awakened to learn these were but dreams; but to a boy dreams are closely akin to reality.,

Billy grinned. He had caught the gasp at the end of the speaker's words; now he knew where lay the stranger's weak spot—his wind!,

The boys gazed at each other and Maurice's chuckle echoed Billy's, although it was raspy and hoarse.,

They had topped a wooded hill and were descending into a wide green valley, studded with clumps of red willows and sloping towards a winding stretch of pale green rushes through which the white face of the creek flashed as though in a smile of welcome. Red winged blackbirds clarioned shrilly from rush and cat-tail. A brown bittern rose solemnly and made across the marsh in ungainly flight. A blue crane, frogging in the shallows, paused in its task with long neck stretched, then got slowly to wing, long pipe-stem legs thrust straight out behind. A pair of nesting black ducks arose with soft quacks and drifted up and out, bayward.

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Billy looked searchingly at his new friend. "I never told a soul how I did it, 'cept my chum, Maurice Keeler," he said. "But I'll tell you. That same evenin' I was prowlin' through the slashin' lookin' fer white grubs fer bass-bait. I found a big rotten stump, so I pushed it over, an' right down under the roots I found an old weasel an' six half-grown kittens. Afore she could get over her surprise, I had her an' her family in the tin pail I had with me, an' the cover on. By rights I should'a killed the whole caboodle of 'em, I s'pose, 'cause they're mighty hard on the birds; but I had work fer 'em to do.,

"Why, there he is now," she cried, glancing through the window. "Maurice isn't with him, though. I know that old punt as far as I can see it. I must get the potatoes and bacon on; he'll be hungry as a bear.",

"Well, Ma, you see ol' Ringdo got out of his cage yesterday mornin'. I've kept him shut up a lot an' what with feedin' on meat an' rich stuff that old swamp coon was playfuller than usual, I guess. It seems Teacher Johnston had took a notion to get down to the school at eight o'clock instead of nine as he usually does. When Teacher Stanhope taught school Ringdo used t' often go there an' get apples an' stuff that the teacher saved for him. Yesterday when he got loose he must've been lonesome fer Mr. Stanhope, an' he went to the school. He got in an' found Johnston alone, I guess, an' maybe tried to get friendly. Mr. Johnston must have kicked him er hit him. All I know about it is what I seen fer myself.,

"That, sir, is the errand which is carrying us to the wharves," answered the Admiral, and the two passed on, whilst Mr Greyquill, retaining a hold on the rail of the bridge with his hand, gazed after them with an unchanged face.