y to his feelings, a number of men
entered the room, one of them being Ben Harden. He went up to the
weeping boy, and sitting down on the edge of the bunk, said in quite a
kindly tone,--

"What's the matter, my lad? Feeling homesick, eh? Well, I can't blame
you. It's a poor place you've come to. But cheer up, and make the
best of it. You'll feel better when you get rested."

With a great effort Eric gulped down his sobs and wiped away his
fast-falling tears. He felt much relieved at seeing Ben again, and did
his best to give him a smile of welcome as he said,--

"Oh, I'm so glad you've come. Everything seems so strange here."

A grim smile broke the habitual sternness of the big man's face.

"Strange! Yes; no doubt. It is a strange place. Perhaps you'll think
it stranger before you leave it," said he--adding in an undertone to
himself, so that Eric hardly caught the words, "that is, if you ever do
leave it."

A large pot hung on a kind of wooden crane before the fire, and
pointing to it Ben asked Eric if he wouldn't like something to eat.
Then, without waiting for a reply, he went over to the table, and
picking up a plate, proceeded to fill it from the pot, and having added
a spoon, brought it back to Eric.

Now, trouble may take away the appetite of older people, but with a
hearty, healthy boy hunger may always be trusted to insist upon being
attended to. Eric had not tasted food since early morning, and it was
now approaching midnight. Could any one who know anything about boys
find it in his heart to criticise him if the plateful of savoury stew
vanished rapidly before his dexterous wielding of the spoon?

Ben was highly pleased at his _protege's_ vigorous appetite.

"Well done, my hearty!" he exclaimed. "That's the best kind of physic
for you. You'll soon be yourself again. Now, then, just you lie down
and take a good snooze, and that'll finish the cure."

Eric was just about to throw himself back upon the pillow when he
caught sight of Prince, who had been watching him with eager eyes while
he satisfied his hunger.

"My poor Prince!" he cried. "I was forgetting all about you.--Please,
can't he have some dinner too?"

"Sartin!" said Ben. "The brute must be hungry. I'll give him a good
square meal." And filling a tin dish from the pot, he set it before
the mastiff, who attacked it ravenously.

Eric felt decidedly better for his hearty meal. A luxurious sense of
warmth and languor