tretched
arms. He fairly tumbled out of the canoe into them, and there sobbed
out all his terror and exhaustion, while Collie leaped and barked and
tried his best to upset the boat.

"Oh, Daddy," the little boy sobbed, with the wisdom born of adversity,
"I didn't get the gold--but--I--don't want anything ever--if I've just
got _you_!"

CHAPTER II

Angus McRae had been an intimate friend of Edward Brians, ever since
the days when the latter was a little boy and the former a young man
living on adjoining farms. Angus had, early in life, taken upon
himself the role of Good Samaritan, watching with especial care over
this young neighbour, and many a time the headlong lad might have
fallen among thieves had a friend's example and assistance not been
always at hand.

And now Lawyer Ed's mind was busy with schemes for returning a little
of that life-long assistance, as he set out for his office the morning
after young Roderick's rainbow expedition. "I've got to get some
money, and I will get it," he announced to the blooming syringa bush at
his door, "if I have to take it by assault and battery."

He had come home very late the night before, but he was astir none the
less early for that. For though he was usually the last man in the
town to go to bed, and often worked nearly all night, he always
appeared in good time the next morning, looking as fresh and
well-groomed as though he had just come home from a month's vacation.

Like all the other professional folk of Algonquin, Lawyer Ed lived up
on the hill to the north of the town. His widowed sister kept his
house and wondered, with all the rest of the town, why on earth Ed
didn't get married. Her brother answered all enquiries on the subject
according to the age and sex of the enquirer; and had nearly every
young lady in the place convinced that he was secretly pining for her.
He came swinging down his steps this bright June morning humming a tune
in his deep melodious voice. He picked a rosebud and fastened it in
his button-hole and strode down the street, stopping at the gate of
every one of his friends--and who wasn't his friend?--to hail the owner
and summon him to his work. He ran into "Rosemount," the big brick
house where the handsome Miss Armstrongs lived, to make arrangements
for a Choral Society practice, he drummed up a half-dozen recreant
Sunday-school teachers within the space of two blocks, and he roared
across the street to Doctor Archie B