home,
for--"

"He knowed Myry loved Ben," broke in Tess.

"That's what I thought," Young answered. "I found Longman and the mother
mourning over the boy. They hope to hear from the girl soon."

"If Myry and Ben was in the storm last night--" began Tess.

"They may be dead," ended Young gravely. "Myra took her child with her.
I found this note on the dead boy's bed, and brought it away with me. I
would have liked to have put the boy on the witness-stand. Nevertheless,
I hope to release your father on the evidence I have, without a trial."

For several moments silence reigned in the hut. The sun streamed through
the window, and a steamer sent a shrill whistle over the lake, the sound
echoing among the rocks. Tessibel was thinking of Ezra Longman;
Professor Young was thinking of her.

Presently she leaned over, and took the letter from the man's hand,
spelling out Myra's written message.

"Myry air a-writin' so dum well," she observed, handing it back, "that
I can't make it out. What air she a-sayin'? You read it."

Young read the badly-spelled note.

"I knowed the brat was Ben Letts'," she said, after the man's voice had
died away. "He were a cute kid."

"We hope to find them all," interposed Young thoughtfully. "But, if we
don't, the evidence I already have--this note, and the fact that the
fisherman is a fugitive--will liberate your father. I shall go to Albany
to-morrow to see the Governor. I am sure he will consider the evidence I
have. Then we shall know."

"You think the man at Albany will give him to me?"

"Yes, indeed, I do! I would not raise your hopes if I did not. If you
persuade your father to leave here--" He stopped and looked at her with
a questioning glance.

"I tells him that the hut ain't his'n," she asserted abruptly.

"If you do go away, I shall try to get your father steady work in the
city. Would you like that?"

"Yep," replied Tess, in a thick voice. "He wouldn't have to net no more.
And he wouldn't have no more froze toes."

"Neither would you, Tess," answered Young.

Suddenly Tess saw the man staring at her arm, where several blue
stripes, mingling with red, ran long from her shoulder.

"Heavens! child, what's the matter with your arm?"

The brown eyes clouded. Tess swept her jacket over the marks, and
muttered,

"It ain't nothin'. I scratched it on some thorns."

Professor Young leaned forward, and tilted the little chin upward. Still
the eyes remained upon the floor.