" said David, wiping his forehead. "I grew tired, and made for
shore. The tide was taking me up fast."

"Did you let go the line?" questioned Ezra.

"Yes."

"The pump works all right, then?"

"Yes."

"You've frightened mother terribly."

"Have I? I never thought. I _forgot_ she was here. Let us get back,
then;" and the two brothers, without speaking a word, rowed down
against the sweep of tide, the great Turtle in tow.

The three went home, still keeping a silence broken only by briefest
possible question and answer.

The golden October night fell upon the old town. Pochaug River, its
lone line of silver gathered in many a stretch of interval into which
the moon looked calmly down, lay on the land for many a mile.

Again and again, during the evening, David Bushnell went out from the
house and stood silently on the rough bridge that crossed the river by
the door.

"Let David alone, mother," urged Ezra, as she was about to follow him
on one occasion. "He is thinking out something, and is better alone."

That which the young man was thinking at the moment was, that he
wished the moon would hurry and go down. He longed for darkness.

The night was growing cold. Frost was in the air.

As he stood on the rough logs, a post-rider, hurrying by with letters,
came up.

"Holloa there!" he called aloud, not liking the looks of the man on
the bridge.

"It's I,--David Bushnell, Joe Downs! You can ride by in safety," he
responded, ringing out one of his merriest chimes of laughter at the
very idea of being taken for a highwayman.

"I've news," said Joe; "want it?"

"Yes."

Joe Downs opened his pocket, and, by the light of the moon, found the
letter he had referred to.

"Dr. Gale told me not to fail to put this into your hands as I came
by. I should kind o' judge, by the way he _spoke_, that the continent
couldn't get along very well _'thout you_, if I hadn't known a thing
or two. Howsomever, here's the letter, and I've to jog on to Guilford
afore the moon goes down. So good-night."

"Good night, Joe. Thank you for stopping," said David, going into the
house.

"Were you expecting that letter, David?" questioned Mr. Bushnell, when
it had been read.

"No, sir. It is from Dr. Gale. He asks me to hasten matters as far as
possible, but a new contrivance will have to go in before I am
ready."

"There! _That's_ what troubles him," thought both Mrs. Bushnell and
Ezra, and they exchanged glances of sympathy and