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"One morning something over a year ago a queer little man came to my office. He told me his name, Scroggie, but refused to give me any address. He said he wished to make his will and insisted that I draw it up. It was a simple will, as I remember it, merely stating that 'I something-or-other, Scroggie, hereby bequeath all my belongings, including land and money, to Frank Stanhope.' I made it out exactly as he worded it, had it sealed and witnessed and handed it to him. But the old fellow refused to take it. I asked him why, and he said: 'You keep it safe until I send for it. I'm willin' to pay for your trouble.',

"Thomas has sure fattened up," grinned Jim. "I guess it would puzzle old Johnston to know our horse now, eh, Bill?",

After a time he turned and walked back slowly to where the sick man sat. "Mr. Landon," he said, gravely, "I love your daughter. With your permission I would make her my wife. Wait," as the older man attempted to speak. "Hear what I have to say. I have endeavored to be honorable. Never by word or look have I given her to understand what my feelings are toward her. For Stanhope, the man who was brave and strong enough to give her up, I have always had the deepest respect; and now, knowing the price he has paid, I honor him. He was far more worthy of your daughter than I am. But now, as all is over between them, I would do my best to make her happy.",

But Billy gazed dully at the treasure with sinking heart and murmured: "You danged old humbug, you!" Croaker was surprised, indignant, hurt. He reached down and struck one of the shiniest of the bottles with his beak but even the happy tinkle that ensued failed to rouse enthusiasm in his master.

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The man was almost a caricature owing to malformation and other deformities. His red hair flamed; he was hunched, his arms were as long as a baboon's and seemed designed for climbing. His legs were arched and at the same time crooked at the knees, so that he appeared to be stooping whether he walked or stood, and to complete the suggestion of his origin he had a trick of scratching himself like a monkey. He was about twenty-five years of age. Whose son he was he could not have told. He preeminently belonged to the parish.,

"Likely. Now I move we go right over into that ha'nted grove. What you say?",

"Fer the love av hivin, be sure ye make both inds av the circle jine," he shivered. "Ut's a small crack a ghost kin squeeze through, I'm tellin' ye.",

Mrs. Keeler edged forward distrustfully. "What's that he says he's goin' to do in two weeks?" she asked, suspicion in her tones. "Cause if you think, young man, you be goin' to go in swimmin' ag'in, inside two weeks—" she pointedly addressed Maurice, "you got another think comin'. I'm goin' to see that you don't suffer no re-lapse."