collar.

"Let go, sir!" he ordered, sternly, and Bim instantly obeyed the
command. Then realizing that discretion is the better part of valor
when the odds are three to one, the young engineer, with the dog in his
arms, ran to the side of the raft, sprang into the skiff, and shoved
off. He was followed by a storm of threats and angry imprecations, at
which he only smiled, as he took to his oars and pulled through the
friendly darkness towards the landing from which the raft had already
drifted quite a distance.

Making his way to the wharf-boat, and giving the watchman a quarter to
look out for his skiff until morning, Billy Brackett, weary and
disheartened, sought such accommodation as the only hotel of the little
town afforded. All night he tossed sleeplessly on his uncomfortable
bed, striving in vain to unravel the mystery in which the fate of his
nephew and of Major Caspar's raft had become enshrouded.

In the morning he strolled undecidedly down to the wharf-boat, and,
missing his skiff, asked the watchman, who was just going off duty,
what he had done with it.

"Why, there it is, sir, just where you left it," answered the man, in a
surprised tone, pointing to a skiff that Billy Brackett was certain he
had never seen before.

"That is not my boat," he said.

"It is the one you came in last night," answered the watchman. "And
here is the coat you left in it. I took the liberty of bringing it in
out of the dew."

The young engineer looked at the coat the man was holding towards him,
and shook his head.

"That is not mine, either," he said.

"Whose is it, then?"

"I'm sure I don't know. You'd better look in the pockets. They may
contain some clew."

Acting upon this suggestion the watchman thrust his hand into a
breast-pocket of the coat and drew forth a note-book. He opened it.

"Here's something writ in it," he said; "but as I'm not quick at making
out strange writing, maybe you'll read it, sir."

Taking the book from the man's hand, and glancing carelessly at its
title-page, Billy Brackett uttered a cry of amazement. There, written
in a clear boyish hand, was the inscription:

"Winn Caspar. His Book."

[Illustration: "Billy Brackett uttered a cry of amazement."]

CHAPTER XVII.

THE TRUTH, BUT NOT THE WHOLE TRUTH.

Winn was greatly perturbed by hearing from the _Whatnot's_ engine-room
the inquiries concerning Sheriff Riley's skiff, and Cap'n Cod's
replies. He had not meant