."

The hermit's boy was tired out by the day's outing, yet he pulled a
fairly quick stroke and it was not long before he reached the dock at
which he and Hiram Bodley were in the habit of leaving their boat. He
cleaned the craft out, hid the oars in the usual place, and then,
with his fishing lines in one hand and a good sized fish in the other,
started up the trail leading to the place that he called home.

"What a place to come to, alongside of the one Ned lives in," he said to
himself. "I suppose the Talmadges think this is a regular hovel. I
wish we could afford something better,--or at least live in town. It's
lonesome here with nobody but old Uncle Hiram around."

As Joe neared the cabin something seemed to come over him and, for some
reason he could not understand, he felt very much depressed in spirits.
He quickened his pace, until a turn of the trail brought the homestead
into view.

A cry of alarm broke from his lips and with good reason. The little
shelter had stood close to a large hemlock tree. The lightning had
struck the tree, causing it to topple ever. In falling, it had landed
fairly and squarely upon the cabin, smashing it completely. One corner
of the cabin was in ashes, but the heavy rain had probably extinguished
the conflagration.

"Uncle Hiram!" cried the boy, as soon as he recovered from his
amazement. "Uncle Hiram, where are you?"

There was no answer to this call and for the moment Joe's heart seemed
to stop beating. Was the old hermit under that pile of ruins? If so it
was more than likely he was dead.

Dropping his fish and his lines, the youth sprang to the front of the
cabin. The door had fallen to the ground and before him was a mass of
wreckage with a small hollow near the bottom. He dropped on his knees
and peered inside.

"Uncle Hiram!" he called again.

There was no answer, and he listened with bated breath. Then he fancied
he heard a groan, coming from the rear of what was left of the cabin.
He ran around to that point and pulled aside some boards and a broken
window sash.

"Uncle Hiram, are you here?"

"Joe!" came in a low voice, full of pain. The man tried to say more but
could not.

Hauling aside some more boards, Joe now beheld the hermit, lying flat on
his back, with a heavy beam resting on his chest. He was also suffering
from a cut on the forehead and from a broken ankle.

"This is too bad, Uncle Hiram!" he said, in a trembling voice. "I'll get
you out just a