ther and you,
and his mother is just as bad----"

Jack checked himself again, for his quick ear detected something. He
turned quickly toward the door of the cabin, and his mother, reading the
meaning of the movement, did the same, holding her fingers motionless
while both listened.

The rain beat upon the roof, dashed against the window-panes, and
rattled on the logs of the cabin, with a melancholy sound that made the
interior seem doubly cheerful by contrast. At times the wind roared
among the trees, and some of the pattering drops found their way down
the chimney, and hissed among the flaming brands, making tiny black
points that were instantly wiped out by the ardor of the fire itself.

Suddenly the latch-string, which was only drawn in when the inmates were
ready to retire, was pulled, the latch raised, the door opened, and Otto
Relstaub, his garments dripping water, entered the room.

"Good-evening!" he called, pausing a moment to close the door against
the driving storm.

Both greeted the visitor, and Jack, laying aside his book, advanced and
warmly shook the hand of his friend, bringing him forward and giving him
a seat on the bench, which was drawn still nearer the fire.

Otto was attired very much as when we saw him last, but he did not carry
his gun with him. He took off his peaked hat, shook the water from it,
and then his broad, good-natured face, gleaming with moisture and rugged
health, was raised to meet the mild, inquiring gaze of the lady, who
asked him how he was.

"Oh, I ish well," he answered, speaking English much better than he did
a short time previous, "I have been working so hard dot I couldn't come
over before."

"I'm real glad to see you," said Jack, cordially, slapping him on the
back and making the water fly; "if you hadn't called to-night I would
have dropped in to-morrow to see you. We've hardly had a chance to speak
to each other since we got back."

"No, dot ish so," said Otto, with a sigh. "Father, he makes me work
harder as I never did, to make up for the time dot I wasted in play, he
says. By Jiminy! I don't think dot was much play, do you, Jack?"

"It was the worst play I ever went through; two boys never worked harder
for their lives than did we, and if it hadn't been for Deerfoot, we
never would have reached Martinsville. I suppose your father gave you a
whipping for losing Toby?"

"I should thinks he did! I hadn't been home one hours, when he went out
and cut a stick