than usual when he started out for his camp on the river's
brink. The long, busy day was over; he was tired and the prospect of
his comfortable bed was very alluring. It was some distance to the
shack, and before he was halfway through the pine woods that separated
Aldercliffe from Pine Lea darkness had fallen, and he was compelled to
move cautiously along the narrow, curving trail. How black the night
was! A storm must be brewing, thought he, as he glanced up into the
starless heavens. Stumbling over the rough and slippery ground on he
went. Then suddenly he rounded a turn in the path and stood arrested
with terror.

Not more than a rod away, half concealed in the denseness of the
sweeping branches rose his little shack, a blaze of light! A wave of
consternation turned him cold and two solutions of the mystery
immediately flashed into his mind--fire and marauders. Either something
had ignited in the interior of the house; or, since it was isolated and
had long been known to be vacant, strolling mischief-makers had broken
in and were ransacking it. He remembered now that he had left a window
open when he had gone off in the morning. Doubtless thieves were at
this moment busy appropriating his possessions. Of course it could not
be any of the Fernald workmen. They were too friendly and honorable to
commit such a dastardly deed. No, it was some one from outside. Was it
not possible men had come down the river in a boat from Melton, the
village above, and spying the house had made a landing and encamped
there for the night?

Well, live or die, he must know who his unwelcome guests were. It would
be cowardly to leave them in possession of the place and make no
attempt to discover their identity. For that invaders were inside the
shack he was now certain. It was not a fire. There was neither smoke
nor flame. Softly he crept nearer, the thick matting of pine needles
muffling his footsteps. But how his heart beat! Suppose a twig should
crack beneath his feet and warn the vandals of his approach? And
suppose they rushed out, caught him, and--for a moment he halted with
fear; then, summoning every particle of courage he possessed, he
tiptoed on and contrived to reach one of the windows.

There he halted, staring, his knees weak from surging reaction.

Instead of the company of bandits his mind had pictured, there in the
rocker sat Mr. Wharton and opposite him, in the great leather armchair,
was Mr. Clarence Fernald. The lat