s brain, he discovered
the boat, with Mr. Presby and Ben, returning to the pier. Not caring to
encounter the scrutiny, or answer the questions of the philosopher, he
hoisted the sails, and cast off the moorings of the Greyhound. He was
anxious to see Sandy Brimblecom, and ascertain whether he had been
discovered when he went home. Sailing over to Whitestone, he found
Sandy on the wharf, and took him into the boat.

"Did you get into the house all right?" asked Richard as the Greyhound
receded from the wharf.

"I did, but I got caught for all that. My mother had missed me, and
about one o'clock, after I had got into bed, the old man came up to my
chamber to see if I was there."

"Of course you pretended to be sound asleep."

"I did; but it wouldn't go down. The old man asked me where I had been.
I told him I had been over to see you."

"Did you, indeed?" sneered Richard. "And the next thing he will do will
be to go to my father, and ask him if you were at our house. My folks
know I went to bed before nine o'clock. You have got me into a pretty
scrape."

"No, I haven't. The old man won't ask any more questions; but he was
mad as thunder with me for staying out so late. It's all right now,
Dick; you needn't give yourself any trouble about it."

"I shall not do that, whatever happens."

Richard then described the happy "dodge" by which he had thrown dust in
the eyes of all the inmates of Woodville. Sandy was much amused at the
account, and expressed a decided admiration for the wonderful genius of
his companion, and even went so far as to request the loan of the
remarkable work which had suggested the expedient. He would like to
read that book, though he was not in the habit of doing such things.

"See there, Sandy," said Richard, as he pulled up his pants, and
exhibited to his friend the wales and broken skin upon his legs.

"That's hard," replied Sandy, as he shook his head. "The old villain
laid it on well."

"He did, and he shall pay dearly for it," added Richard, as he
compressed his lips and ground his teeth. "I'll be revenged upon him if
it costs me my life."

"I'm with you there, Dick."

"It shall be the worst night's work for Old Batterbones that ever he
did."

"What are you going to do, Dick?"

"Will you stand by me, Sandy?" demanded Richard, earnestly.

"Certainly; to be sure I will. But, Dick, we mustn't burn our own
fingers," said his prudent companion. "What are you going to do?"

In low